Random Thoughts
by tarnished silver things
Summary: A bunch of HP fics that attack my brain at random moments. Some may become actual fics, but most are just ideas. Got the idea from Rorschach's Blot's Odd Ideas. Hope you like them! Rated T for randomness. XD And possible  definite  insanity.
1. Through My Green Eyes

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Through My Green Eyes

A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

25 April, 2010 Anno Domini

Tarnished Silver Things

I stood over the body, and no tears fell. I remembered Dumbledore's words, cautioning me to never revel in death, lest I turn Dark. I snorted. I had none of my former mentors' reluctance to turn towards power. My mother hadn't either. When I went to Godric's Hollow for the first time, it was quite the surprise to find dozens upon dozens of journals by my own mother detailing her experiments in Dark Magic, and the ways she fought addiction to it. And the kicker – they worked. I toed the snake-like body. Such a foolish man, Tom. He could have gotten all he wanted with some lovely old-fashioned bribery, but he took a violent route. His loss.

The dead man twitched. I glared. Bastard. "So Potter," he rasped. "You've beaten me, have you? Good job." He laughed. "Now now, we can't have the hero's adventures end, now can we? My last gift, _**vado tergum ut prothoplastus…**_" Voldemort wheezed, and then his eyes closed in triumph. He was really and truly dead.

I felt a tug on my sleeve, what in the world? The world was mixing around me, funny colours, all mixing together, but still separate, like paint and glue. The colours drained away, and I woke up.

"Potter!" yelled Uncle Vernon. "Get up! Your Aunt's taking you shopping!"

Oh, damn.

...

I was four again. Oh, _damn._ The Dursleys hated me as a kid! Well, not always. Until I performed my first accidental magic when I was four and my hair turned green they were fine. When I was four… _**vado tergum ut prothoplastus…**_

Mold face returned me to the start of it all. My first magic at the Dursleys! That was before Dumbledore blocked of my Metamorphmagus powers, so… I could fix it. I needed to plan, though…

"NOW!"

I jumped. Okay, what had happened when they saw my hair? I said I liked it, it was just like magic… and Uncle Vernon threw me into the cupboard. So… I had to act scared and like a Dursley. I hated to trick them when, at this pint in time, they had been nothing but good to me, but I had to. I would not lose my family again. Aunt had always had a weakness for my mother, no matter how much she tried to rid herself of it.

Nodding to myself, I willed my hair red, just exactly like my mothers' had been. I pulled my hair up and plastered a grin on my face. Dursleys here I come. Running down the stairs, I called out, "Au' Tuney! Au' Tuney! Unca Ve'non said we gonna go shopping! Can we go to the shoppin' centre wif de playg'ound? Pleeaase?" By the time I finished talking, I was in the kitchen, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were staring at me like the world was crashing down around them. I gave them an innocent, curious look, and asked, "Au' Tuney? Unca Ve'non? Wha's w'ong? Why you sad?"

Aunt Petunia shook her head and asked, her voice low and dangerous, "What. Did you do. To your hair?"

I cocked my head. "What you mean, Au' Tuney?"

"Look in the mirror and see if you don't know!" she said, her voice turning shrill. I widened my eyes and ran to the hallway, and looked in the mirror. Then I screamed. "Au' Tuney! Make it go 'way! I wan' it ta go 'way Au' Tuney!" I shouted, forcing tears down my face. I _hated_ this. I felt like Dumbledore, manipulating them. I looked at my Aunt, and her face softened. She came over and wrapped me in her arms.

"It's okay, sweetheart, shh, it'll be alright. Just… think about your hair turning back to normal, okay? It'll stop."

I nodded and whispered, "otay." I closed my eyes and concentrated on my normal hair, black like my father's, and silky and straight like my Aunts.

I heard her sigh in relief. "See, sweetheart? All better. Now, we can't go shopping today, but tomorrow I'll take you and Dudders to… the Zoo, okay?" I nodded. "Good, now go play with Dudley, I want to talk to your Uncle." I ran up the stairs, and stopped at the top, turned myself invisible with one of Mother's spells, and silenced myself.

"-Knew it would happen, Pet. What now?"

"I don't know, Vern. She doesn't seem to like magic, so at least she wants to be normal, but… I swear, I thought I was looking at Lily's ghost!"

"Well, she's not normal, we know that now. I think…"

"That we should treat her like she's normal?"

"Yes. She's fine, and if anything, whatever she did to change her looks will help her to hide from that lot."

"I suppose… I'll take the children to the Library, then, and they can look at books. Hurry up, now. It's almost eight thirty."

"Goodbye, love. Be home at six."

The front door closed and Aunt Petunia stood there a few moments before starting up the stairs. I ran into the bathroom and flushed the toilet, coming out just as she reached the top of the stairs. "Oh, Hadri, I'm taking you and Dudders to the Library, get your bag." I nodded and ran to my room to get my red knapsack. I wasn't going to slack off this time.

**Author's Notes/Author's Rants: This has been lying on my computer for over a year now; thought I'd put it up. :D**

**Mercy. 7/21/2010**


	2. The Twin Tepes

The Twins Tepes.

"Te rog, papa, vreau să joace pe swingset! Vă rugăm, ne putem juca!(1)"

Vlad smiled as the four-year-old girl giggled and pleaded with her mother; his wife, Anca. His wife. His daughter. He had a little girl. Four years, and his head was still wrapping around it. They were just on a short little holiday as a family, and since Vlad had… business… in England, they had decided to go there and stay for an extended weekend. And the idiot that he was doing business with was paying for it. Plus expenses indeed.

Anca laughed, shaking her head so that her dark gold curls whipped around her head. "Oh, tu fata o prostie! Amendă. Dacă tata spune da, vom merge juca pe leagăn dumneavoastră.(2)"

Little Viorica turned her pleading jade eyes, so like her mothers, just greener, on him. "Ne conduc la swingset dumneavoastră," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. He was wrapped around her little finger and he knew it. Sadly, or perhaps not so much so, Viorica knew it too, and knew it well.

Viorica looked as if Christmas had come early, and raced towards the dully-coloured play park, leaving her parents standing at the entrance, laughing to themselves. "Now then," Vlad whispered in his wife's ear, "What to do while we wait?".

There was a very strange whimpering noise, and Viorica did not know where it was from. "Hay-lo?" she questioned softly into the night air, remembering to use the new language Papa and Mama had taught her.

The whimpering paused. "Who- who's dewe?" asked a voice from under the merry-go-round.

"I's mae, Viowica. ay four. 'Ho yo'?" she asked, bending over to see who she was talking to.

"I Boy Hawwy. I f'eak. How owd me?"

Viorica thought very, very hard. "Yo' four wik-eh mae, Hawwy. Come outa p'ay?"

"Otay…"

When her new friend crawled out from under the merry-go-round, Violeta did the only thing she could think of.

"PAAAAAAAAAPAAAAAAAAAA!"

Vlad raced across the grass towards Vioricas' high-pitched scream.

"PPAAAAAAAAAAAPPPAAAAAAAAA!"

She was holding a small boy, maybe two, or three at the most, and crying. The boy's skin was mottled black and blue and in some spots, slightly green, with bruises, and he had blood all over his face and clothes. It was the boys own, by the smell of it.

"Domnul Dulce," Anca breathed behind him. She knealt down by the two children, "Little boy? Where are your parents?"

"Heww."

"Hell? Why Hell?"

"Dey F'eaks wike me. Dey died."

"Wh-ere do yo' live-eh, Sweet?"

"Numbow Four P'ivet D'ive wif Au' Tun-ee-ya, Unca Vewnon, and Duddy."

"Okay, mey hoosband, Vlad, is going to go there-eh, alright?"

"No! Unca Vewnon hurt him!"

"It will bae fineh, yo'ngling," Vlad said softly, before he left for Number Four, Privet Drive. He was back quite quickly, and Anca had already patched the boy up with her seemingly-endless supply of potions, salves, and healing charms. Thank the heavens for her obsessiveness with the healing arts.

"Doe yo' want to comae homeh weeth oos, Harry?" she was asking softly. "Would you likeh to be our little boy? Viorica's twin brot'her?"

"Weawwy?"

"Truly, Leettle Harry."

"I want to go wif you an' be Vica's t'in bwodder."

"Gode," Vlad murmered. "Welcomeh to t'e Tepes clan, Harry. Or rat'her, Vlad Tepes IV." He grinned, his fangs glinting in the dark.

"Haralamb! Come on! I need your help with something!"

Vlad Haralamb Tepes turned to his twin sister. "What is it, Vica?" he asked, making a point of using his sisters pet name. For the past month she had attempted to get people to stop calling her that in public and in private, or at any time at all.

Viorica just rolled her eyes at him. "Just continue calling me that. Remember that I can murder you in your shower," she said flippantly, waving her one hand vaguely, as if remembering something of little to no consequence.

Haralamb raised a singular eyebrow. "_Sora Draga_(5), if you must insist on using funny phrases, please say them correctly. It is 'murder you in your bed,' not your shower."

Viorica sniggered. "No, it is not. The cautious ones ward their beds, but who wards their shower?"

Haralamb made a note to start warding himself at all times. Well, he would, but Papa was very firm that they already do that… Still, it would not hurt to always keep note of that.


	3. WorkingTitle:NonConformists Are AllAlike

**AN/AR: I sincerely doubt I'll continue this. I tried to re-write it a while back, but . . . I just don't like it anymore. thonk I wrote it . . . Six Months Ago? Meh.**

**Mercy. **

Non-Conformists Are All Alike.

CHAPTER 1:

Harry was very, very bored. It was the second day of the summer holidays, and his relatives were, for the most part, so long as his chores - which were fewer than the years previous - were done, ignoring him. This suited Harry quite well; however, it got very, very boring.

Harry had not been allowed in the Little Whinging Library since he was nine years old and Dudley had set fire to a bookshelf, then framed Harry. Of course, it was AFTER that that they installed video cameras. AFTER Dudley had stopped ever going to the Library. Lovely.

His Aunt wasn't always bad, Harry supposed, when he was littler, especially after fits of accidental magic, she had made sure to give him certain foods, all of which made him feel quite a bit less exhausted. Kind of like a mum would have done. He wondered why she did it though, didn't she hate magic, and by extension, him? Adults were very confusing creatures, in Harry's mind.

She had sewn Dudley's cast-offs, too, so that they stayed on his rather small frame, so dwarfed by Dudley's girth. Very confusing, indeed. Even if he had always seen her as the mother figure in his life. She had always made sure he at least had most of the things that he had needed growing up, and even now made sure that he wasn't always working. But why she did was a mystery to the soon-to-be-more-oblivious-than-he-already-was-because-of-teenage-hormones-teenaged boy. Half the time she seemed to see him as a second son, but whenever people were around, he was lower than dirt.

Maybe adults were just overall weird, no matter what?

Even today, or rather, yesterday, Aunt Petunia had said that for the next week he was to clean out the attic and nothing else, and he was to eat proper meals 'so that he wouldn't faint in her nice house and rot up there.' He loved his aunt dearly, usually, but she was quite the confusing woman. Hermione was weird that way too, sort of. Was it a girl thing?

Harry remembered several things like this. The attic, he knew from experience, was a one-day job, and not as grueling as one might think. And Harry had always known his parents never died in a freak car accident, even though his relatives told him that they had. The one time he got a question answered properly was when he asked his Aunt that. He had gone to Petunia when she was working on her prized lilies and had asked her, while at the same time trailing a light finger across a petal of one of the nearby petunias.

His aunt had looked sad for a breif moment, then said quietly, "My sister and her dratted husband were killed by a madman, because of the life James Potter caused her to lead, Harry. Now put some of the flowers in a vase for the table, would you?"

Petunia didn't grow lilies and petunias so closely anymore, and Harry figured it must be because of that. But, still, why had she told him then? He now knew that Petunia had protected him, albeit in an extremely strange manner, but she had protected him nonetheless. Was that just her way, he wondered? Was it a mother thing? He had never really paid attention to how she mothered Dudley, so he wouldn't know. Shaking his head, Harry crept down the stairs to make Petunia's tea, she always got up around this time.

He stopped to prop up one of the red lilies on a yellow petunia before putting the frying pan on the stove. They had had steak the night before, so his aunt wouldn't want bangers. Eggs on toast it was then. He heard the shower upstairs turn on. Where was that cinnamon? Aunt Petunia always wanted cinnamon on her eggs, no matter what kind they were.

He had just set the food on the table and was making tea when Aunt Petunia came into the kitchen. The blonde woman smiled and sat down, "Thank you Harry, darling," she said softly. Harry liked it when his aunt smiled, she seemed younger, happier, then. He thought that she should do it more often.

"Do you want cream, Aunt Tuney?" he asked. She jumped, like she always did whenever he called her that, but smiled a bit more, if not a little sadly now, and nodded.

"That would be just fine, I think. Make sure to eat something, you didn't get much last night. Silly cows." Harry laughed at that, it had always been their running joke that it was the cows' fault if there wasn't enough food to go around when they had meat at dinner. Harry vaguely recalled a sort of half memory about his Aunt telling him about it when he was very small.

Harry wondered just why his aunt was only ever like this in the morning before everyone else was up, but figured she must have her reasons. "Yes, it was too busy moon-jumping to let itself be devoured properly."

Petunia smirked, "Silly boy."

"Who, me?" Harry asked in a far too innocent voice.

"Of course you, you knobbly-kneed twerp."

"I resent that."

"But you don't deny it."

"Wonderful Aunt you are, teasing me." Even as he said it, Harry wondered if his aunt and Lily had bantered like this with his gran, or if he would have with his mum. _Stop thinking about that!_ He told himself sternly. Why did he have to get stuck thinking all that this summer? Really? Meh. And Grump.

"It's my job in life, dear," Aunt Petunia said loftily. They both paused for a moment, hearing Uncle Vernon's grunting from up the stairs. "Your Uncle will be up soon, put on some food."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." The joking manner was gone. But… Maybe? "Aunt Tuney?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Were you ever… close… to my mum, before she became, er-"

"A witch?"

Shocked though he was at her use of one of THE words, Harry wanted to know before Vernon came down, "Erm, yeah. I don't, er, know much about her other than that she had the same eyes as me, so-"

"I was. And I'll tell you more at lunch. Now put on the food before Diddy and your Uncle get down here."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Harry spent the day in the attic, and at noon was just getting to a back corner that he didn't seem to have ever cleaned before, when Petunia found him. "I was wondering when you would find this, though I must say that I am glad that you never found it before going to that school."

"What, Hogwarts?"

"Hold your tongue, Harry."

"Yes Mu-Aunt Tuney." Why did he almost go and call her mum? Idiot! Okay, so she was as close as he had, but STILL. And she was basically the only mother he had ever known… _Stop it! _He thought fiercely, then glanced at his Mum-ish Aunt. She had noticed his slip if the shocked look on her face was anything to go by. "Er, sorry, Aunt Petunia. I - erm, that is, uh - you see -"

She shook her head sadly. "_You_," she said, smiling a little, "have not called me Mum since you were four years old and started pre-school, and found out that I was actually your Aunt. You never seemed to believe it before then." Harry was surprised at this, he didn't remember it at all.

"Now, you wanted to know more about Lily?"

"Er, yeah?"

"Good. Look in that trunk you're sitting on."

"L.S.… Lily S? Was my mother's middle name S-something?"

Petunia smiled. "Close, but no cigar, Harry. It stands for Lamia Sureau, your Grandmum. Mine and Lily's mother. Lily kept her trunk, but Mother left hers to me."

"My-my grandmother was a witch? I thought my mother was Muggle-born!"

"Mother was from France, and left school early, something to do with bigotry, if I recall right. She lived as a Muggle, but passed on her stories to me and Lily in bedtime stories. They're in that trunk, along with pictures and things. I remember once that Mother actually threw fire at a man trying to attack Lily and me when we went to London. She didn't look like an angel then."

"Angel?"

"My mother looked like a classical painter's idea of perfection. Silvery blonde hair, bright eyes, pale skin. Lily got her looks, but our father's hair."

"You're nice-looking too," Harry muttered, feeling rather protective of his Aunt, but Petunia still heard him.

"Thank you Harry. Now, feel free to look at these things later, but I want you to eat and go outside for a bit, I'll be up here if you need me."

"Yes, Aunt Tuney, er, Mum."

Harry did not notice his Aunt's smile as he left the attic.

CHAPTER 2:

It was rather cool out for summer, but that wasn't what Harry was paying attention to. There was a big, hulking monster of a vehicle in front of Number Seven, with decorations and furniture and things being brought into the house.

There was a moving van on Privet Drive.

Very strange indeed. So, shrugging, he'd seen things odder, (much odder, really…) Harry walked across the lawn over to the monster of a van and to the family next to it. A woman with dark hair, a man with a good natured face and a booming laugh, a little boy telling jokes while his blonde twin sister made silly gestures behind his back. And a fair-haired, brooding boy, that reminded Harry strongly of both Dudley and Draco Malfoy rolled up into one. The boy was sneering at his family's antics, the father had picked up the two fair-haired five-year-olds, and was swinging them around, and rolling his eyes, like he thought it was base entertainment, beneath them.

A girl with dark hair that looked about the same age as the boy stomped lightly - somehow, that actually wasn't an oxymoron - out of the back of the van and happily whacked the boy upside the head. He glared at her and started jabbering at her in what sounded like French, but she just rolled her eyes, smirked, and put her hands up, moving her fingers to her thumbs as if her hands were the ones babbling.

The boy got angrier and started shouting, finally kicking the wall and storming off. The girl waited… and waited… she saw him turn the corner and burst out laughing, then looked up, wiping a fake tear from her eye.

She looked straight at Harry.

Harry held back a flush, but only barely. The girl had sharp violet-blue eyes and very white teeth. Her eyes seemed to go hazy for a moment, though, and then she leapt forward and by the arms, and forcibly dragged him into her back garden, and through a door that most certainly was not there on any other house in Little Whinging. Her mother called out to her in what Harry thought was French, and the girl yelled back something. It sounded like an affirmative to him.

They were in a small… potions lab? The girl snapped her fingers in his face, and he looked at her again. Her eyes went hazy once more, and then she said in the Queen's English, no accent whatsoever, "You are a wizard!" But her lips didn't make the right shapes for that. How did he hear one thing when she said another?

The girl noticed him looking, and laughed. "It is a trick of mine, to make others understand. Now, you, do you have any talents?" At Harry's shake of the head, the girl nodded seriously. "All right then… tell me about some bursts of accidental magic you had, at any time, any that you recall, or think you recall, or dreamt you recall, or anything else of the sort! I'll read you for them. And I'll explain that later. Maybe."

He didn't quite know why, but he trusted this girl. Harry told her about turning Mrs. Fillipings' wig blue, shrinking sweaters, appearing on the school roof, growing his hair out over night, and vanishing glass at the zoo. She seemed very interested in the glass and the hair incidents, "Why?" she asked about the glass.

"I set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley."

"How did you know this snake was safe?"

"I, er, talked to it," he said, waiting for the disgusted reaction, the one he had been getting for nearly a year now.

It didn't come. "Okay," the girl said, without a moment's thought. "And the hair? What did you fall asleep thinking about?"

"My hair how it had looked before."

"Think of how it looked when your Aunt cut your hair, and will yourself to have it. Scrunch up your face if you must, but imagine yourself as that."

Confused, but compliant, Harry did as she asked. She clapped and said, "open your eyes," to him. When he did, in front of him in her hand was an oval mirror, and him with the horrible haircut. Before he could properly turn into a complete and utter nutter over this fact, the girl said a tad sharply, but not overly so, "now think of your old hair." A second later, he watched his hair grow, right after he wrinkled his nose a little because it itched.

Harry's eyes widened and he quickly forgot his bloody itching-y-ish nose. "Wha - I But - Huh?" he said, more than just a wee bit frantic, and quite a lot confused. Another strange ability?

The girl snorted, "My aren't we eloquent." Then she rolled her eyes and said snarkily, "You're a Metamorphmagus, idiot. You're in what year at the Brit school? Hogwash, isn't it?"

"Hogwarts," Harry corrected, but he grinned a bit. "And I'm going into my Third Year."

She raised an eyebrow. "I am definitely drilling an actual education into you by summer's end. Maman was right about European magic school being regressed. Come with me, lest I vomit."

Bemused, Harry followed the girl. "So," he said, attempting civil conversation, "Will you be going to Hogwarts this year?"

The girl made a face. "Sadly, oui. I still plan on some semblance of a functioning brain, however. I'm Malinda, Malinda Ardith Blake."

"Bond, James middle name Bond."

"Ha-ha, cute."

"Harry, Harry James Potter."

"I read about you in history class. You don't look like some stuffy guy with delusions of grandeur."

"Your book said I'm in Parliament?"

Malinda snorted, "Come on, I'll introduce you to my family."

"Erm, okay?"

Upon reaching the cluster of people, Malinda introduced, "Harry, this is Everyone. Everyone, this is Harry. The adult man is mon Papa, Bertrand Yvaine Blake, Mother is Abelle-"

"Abbey," the woman interrupted.

"_Whatever. _Abbey Nairi Blake, the little twins are Adeline Rhebekkah and Adrien Bard Blake. The moody twit you saw me annoy earlier is, sadly, my twin brother, Haven Alain Blake. The funny thing is, Maman and Papa have the same birthday, but all of us children, all being twins, have separate ones. Mine is the 31st of October, Haven's 1st November, Adeline is 31st December, Adrien the 1st of January. Funny."

"Does zees 'Arry 'ave a family name, 'Alinda?"

The elder sister smirked. "Should he wish it. Harry, why don't you take me to the park."

"Uh… sure," Harry said, nervous around the family.

The two spent the afternoon at the dull, gray park, just talking, unaware of how reminiscent they were of two potions prodigies in the generation before. Dudley and his gang showed up, along with Haven, but they left quickly when they were ignored. And Malinda kicked Dudley, causing him to fall to the ground and whimper. Malinda, as it turned out, could 'see' magic around people and things, and had seen it around Harry. She did not describe her Witchsight at all that very well, but said it would be like describing music to one born deaf, or colours to one that had never seen. She said if they ever met another with the Sight, she would ask the person to help her teach him, as one person cannot teach it.

She was an odd duck, there was no doubt of that, but Harry liked the girl. She spoke more languages than he cared to count, and said that should he learn another language, she would teach him how to learn them more quickly, as she did. "I will now teach a lazy boy with no real idea of the work involved in learning another language," she said.

"Does Parseltongue count?"

"No, you silly boy, you naturally speak it!"

"Why are you so accepting of it anyway? When people at Hogwarts found out, they hated me?"

"Do they still hate you?"

"No, I killed the basilisk that was petrifying everyone, so they accepted that I wasn't evil, or a Dark Wizard or something."

"My doesn't Hogwash sound fun. The reason that I'm so accepting is because I speak to snakes, too. Malinda actually means 'sweet serpent' or 'dark serpent.' My family has Veela blood, and can change our shape into different animals, not Animagi per se, but close. Because of how near we are to the animals, we can all talk to at least one."

"What animals do you talk to? Turn into?"

"Veela turn into snakes, horses, falcons, swans, and wolves. We also become a sort of Harpy creature when we get angry. I can talk to snakes and birds easily, but am able to work with the others somewhat, too. Male Veela are called Vodianoi."

"Okay."

Malinda swatted him. "Silly boy."

Malinda liked dark colours, with hints of brighter ones, or 'jewel tones,' as she called them. Harry just thought they looked nice on her. Girls were nearly as strange as adults, to him. She wore her dark hair long and unnaturally straight, and liked old fashioned clothes and things from charity shops. She tended to go from one century to the next each day, Harry thought. The way she described her new attic room was quite similar, with everything from the Dark Ages to modern times, all dark and gothic.

She had been happy to meet Petunia, who didn't seem at all put off by the girls' strangeness, and the two got on from the start. The two had kicked him out of the house when he first introduced them, and had talked for over two hours. Harry decided that it must be a strange, weird girl thing that he had no hopes of ever understanding. At all. Ever. And he was quite sure that he did not want to. Ever. At all. In this life time. The next can live with it. Girls were STRANGE.

Especially the grown-up ones.

Malinda had taken to playing Dress Up Harry like a duck to water. Sadly, she had quite a lot of time to play it, and Petunia giving her money to pay for the clothes did not help him. At all. But, afterward, he did have to admit, it was nice to have clothes that fit nicely. He still did not want to do it ever again. Ever. At all.

Harry's new girl friend had a great liking for names, Harry found, and collected them. After she and Petunia had convinced him to tell his stories about Hogwash, (their running joke name for Hogwarts) Malinda had declared that he would be called Audo. It was, she said, an Old German name meaning lucky that he surely deserved. And that he was an idiot.

Harry's head had been smacked quite a bit, though, throughout the whole thing.

Harry, and his poor head, were both glad to have shared with Malinda was his Grandmum Lamia's trunk. They laughed at the stories that were written on delicate pieces of paper, copied them onto parchment, so that they had more copies, poured over drawings and Polaroid's, read a passage or two from old diaries, ranging from Lamia's mother's, to Lily's before she left to become a witch. Lamia was a good artist, and had stacks upon stacks of sketches, from her childhood until she died.

"What's this?" Malinda asked, looking through a stack of pictures that Lily and Petunia had drawn as children, curled up under the windowsill. "She looks…" she didn't finish her thought before Harry abandoned his ream of parchment, where he had been copying down stories, and walked toward the rainy window.

It was a crayon drawing, on two pieces of paper taped together, obviously done by both sisters. Two girls, one with red hair and one with yellow, hid behind a silver haired woman throwing fire at a dark figure cowering in a corner of the drawing.

"Oh," Harry said, looking at it. "Mum told me about that, when I found the trunk up here. That's Grandmum Lamia, protecting Mum and Mum from some creep in London. Petunia said, and I quote, 'She didn't look like an angel then.' End quote. Apparently my grandmother looked like a 'classical painter's idea of perfection.' She had silvery blonde hair, bright eyes, was pale. I can see how the angel description fits, actually."

Malinda's sharp violet-blue eyes widened. "Veela," she breathed. "Audo, you're part Veela! That's why we trusted each other when we first met! Remember how I told you about Veela, that I'm one? We don't share that with too many people. But I did! It's why my family were so accepting of you, and Petunia and me! It's in Veela nature to trust each other, as kin, or at least, as the same species, Harry. Does Petunia know?"

"I do." The two teens jumped and turned towards to Petunia, who leaned against a stack of boxes. "It's as I said, Lily got our mother's looks, but our father's hair. I thought you might figure it out, the two of you are both cleverer than you let on, especially you, Harry. You're just as Slytherin as Lily was."

"I thought Lily was in Gryffindor, Audo?" Malinda asked.

"I thought so too. Mum?"

Petunia made a bit of a face. "Until the Headmaster forced her to transfer, she was the only Muggleborn Slytherin, and rather proud of it. She wrote home, and the Snape boy agreed, she was top dog then. The old man said it was for her own good that she be moved to Gryffindor, and didn't listen when she requested Ravenclaw if she couldn't stay in her House. You didn't know? She was a Slytherin for over three years."

"No… Never." Harry's face darkened as he spoke.

Malinda obviously sensed the danger signs, and said quickly. "Speaking of snakes, did that boa constrictor ever reach Brazil?"

All in all, even with the revelations, it was a good day-before-birthday for Harry. Of course, there were still some birthday surprises to come, but then, he WAS best friends with one Malinda Ardith Blake.

CHAPTER 3:

Harry was going over his History of Magic Essay, (Medieval Witch Burning Was Completely Pointless - Discuss) when his window popped open, and in popped a familiar head of long dark hair, which turned to face him.

"Salut, Audo! Happy Birthday, and just so that you know ahead of time, I expect you to do this for me on my birthday, and I don't care if you have to break into my House."

"Thanks, and won't you be a Gryff? Ehr, never mind, stupid question."

"Oh, m'amie, Audo. You know me not! Slytherin or Ravenclaw for me!" Malinda said in a mock-hurt tone as she made a falsely sad face. "Now then, your presents from your other friends are coming soon, I expect, and you simply must open mine first, I insist!" The glint in the girls' eyes told Harry that he had very little, no, he had absolutely no choice in the matter.

He nodded apprehensively and Malinda hopped into the room noiselessly. Tucked under one arm was a dark purple box with a black bow and ribbon around it. "How festive," Harry murmured.

"Isn't it?" Malinda said brightly. "Now open it!"

Inside was a one-time-use, professional Ward Breaker. "I love Knockturn Alley," Malinda chirped. Harry really couldn't feel surprised at that.

"Not surprised at that, but why did you get me this?"

"Because your wards are out of date, needless, and only one of them is of any use to you. And they interfere with my Wizarding Wireless reception. Mum is a professional Warder, and helped me get it, since she'd putting up new wards around the area anyway. Wards that don't interfere with my Wireless."

"You and that bloody radio…"

"Finish that sentence."

"I'd rather not."

"Finish the - ooh, the owls are here! Use my present!"

"Why!"

"I want to see how the birds will react, now do it!"

"Fine! Merlin, you're pushy…"

He fiddled with the controls for a second, and the list of wards appeared on the parchment on the side of the silver contraption, not really paying attention to the growing list, Harry scratched 'blood wards - Lily Evans to Harry Potter' on the piece of parchment marked 'kept wards.' Just as the owls reached number five across the street, Harry pulled the little knob that broke down the wards.

Malinda cheered as all the owls squawked and stopped for a moment before continuing forward, glaring at the air around them. The owls all swooped in successfully, even Errol. Until he crashed into Malinda's shins. The girl quirked an eyebrow and grinned. "Sweet."

In Dumbledore's private quarters, the silver gizmos and things momentarily stalled for the only time that summer, to allow the owls entry. They picked up again where they had left off, unaware that the wards they were attached to had broken.

"Hey Audo," Malinda commented, "The Hogwash owl brought my letter of acceptance with it! Look." Then she went back to watching the other presents. Shrugging, she set down the brown wrapped one, and turned to the more festively wrapped boxes, then stopped cold. "Audo," she said icily, "You have really horrible friends." And then she kicked the boxes at the wall.

"Oi, Linda!" Harry said, annoyed, "Was that necessary? Really?" He knew she was paranoid, but really, they were just birthday presents.

"Harry, the magical signatures on those presents are a mixture of one Albus Dumbledore, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger, and they're cursed. Tell me why these are people that you trust?"

"Wait, what?"

"This one," Malinda kicked the smaller box, "is from Ronald Weasley and Albus Dumbledore. Remember how I told you that if I look at a magical signature, I can see who's it is, no matter what? It has a small object inside cursed to cause you to distrust everyone not keyed into it. That one," she kicked the one wrapped in gold and red, "is from your Headmaster and Hermione Granger, and should cause you broomstick to break within the year. Tell me, Audo, if you couldn't possibly fly, what would you do?"

"I'd…"

"Break?"

"Yeah."

"Exactly. Now, get your trunk, I'm looking at it, too."

"M-my trunk?"

"_Harry,_" Malinda tilted her chin down and looked at him seriously, one eyebrow raised, "Your supposed best friends in the world just sent you gifts that they and the Headmaster of your school personally cursed to bring you harm and make you easy to manipulate. I doubt that this would be a one-time thing. Now. Get. Your. Trunk." Then she smirked in a very off-putting fashion. "Or I'll wake up Petunia."

Merde, Harry thought. "Fine, fine, I'll get the trunk!"

"Good."

Harry was rather glad, later, that he had. His textbooks had been charmed to make him forget what was in them more easily; his Weasley jumpers, while imbued with cheering, warming, durability, and cleaning charms from Mrs. Weasley, had spells cast on them after they had been finished to make him unlucky, prone to failure, tracking charms, and on the second year one, to make him prone to ignoring Ginny Weasley. His luxury eagle-feather quill from Hermione the Christmas before was charmed to make him dislike writing things. Flying with the Cannons was to make him prone to doing dangerous things while flying. The trunk itself was just plain cursed to make him generally oblivious.

Harry was a tad peeved, to say the least. But… "Lin? Why didn't he curse my cloak?"

"I'm not sure… well, that's odd."

"What is?"

"Your cloak, it has thestral hair woven into it, maybe that's why." At Harry's questioning look, she explained, "Thestrals are winged, skeletal horses that can only be seen by those that accept and have seen death. Very few wands have had thestral hair as their core, but maybe Dumblies does? It might explain why he didn't curse it, the thestral that gave tail hairs for the cloak may be the one that gave the hair for the wand."

"So?"

"_So,_" Malinda said imperiously, "they're like brother or sister wands. They can't harm one another at all. It's impossible."

"Brother wands?"

"Yes, should brother wands meet, and should they try to harm one another, they would cast back what each person had done with the spell they cast. Like the Killing Curse, should someone cast it at their wand brother or sister, the owner of their wands' sibling, a bead of light would appear in the magic line that connected the wands, and should the bead touch the killing wand, the wand would absorb it, further making it unable to harm its sibling, while the people that it had killed with that curse would appear in a sort of ghost form, but more solid. Once the connection broke, they'd linger, but disappear soon after. Does that make sense?"

"A little."

"Good, I guess. Will you look at my wand?"

"Of course, but why do you have that, 'I'm-worried-but-I'm-going-to-be an-idiot-about-it-and-not-say-anything-unless-someone-forces-it-out-of-me' look on your face?"

"You like hyphens, don't you?"

"Yes, now answer the bloody question, Audo."

"Well… My-wand-is-Voldemorts-wands-brother."

"You have _la vol de morts _- the flight of dead's brother wand?"

Harry nodded. "And-I-sorta-kinda-think-that-Dumbledore-might-have-had-a-lot-of-opportunities-to-curse-it."

"Only runes can curse a wand and last long, you'd notice them, but… How often do you polish the wand?"

"Er…"

"You don't, do you?"

"Er…"

"Bah! If you did, you might notice if some scratches were oddly shaped or didn't leave! Bah!" Malinda snatched the wand from the trunk and looked it over carefully with hazy eyes. "That -" Malinda said several… impolite words about the elderly Headmaster, then listed out something on a parchment from his trunk, then handed it to him.

'Fehu Reversed: Loss of esteem, failure.

Ansuz Reversed: manipulation by others

Raidho Reversed: irrationality. possibly a death.

Gebo Merkstave: loneliness, dependence, over-sacrifice.

Wunjo Reversed: sorrow, strife, alienation.

Hagalaz Merkstave: Pain, loss, suffering, hardship, sickness, crisis.

Nauthiz Reversed: distress, emotional hunger.

Isa: A challenge or frustration. Psychological blocks to thought or activity

Eihwaz Reversed: Confusion, weakness.

Tiwaz Reversed: One's energy and creative flow are blocked. over-sacrifice, Strife, war, conflict, failure in competition. Dwindling passion, difficulties in communication,

Ehwaz Reversed: This is not really a negative rune. A change is perhaps craved. Feeling restless or confined in a situation. Reckless haste, disharmony, mistrust, betrayal.

Mannaz Reversed: Depression, blindness, Expect no help now.

Dagaz Merkstave: A completion, ending, limit, coming full circle. Blindness, hopelessness.' Harry read. "Good God…" he whispered. "What does all of this mean for me, exactly, Lin?"

"It means, Audo, that those things would be more likely than else to come to you, or happen to you. That you would feel those things more. And it was all time-charmed for the next few years until you're eighteen. There's one rune that I don't recognise, though. It's odd, a sort of tree with the boughs shaping into a heart, with a ferret? Or a weasel, maybe, in the centre. The roots curl up into a sort of pot, with three circles at the top, tied with a string. It's paler than the other runes, just a bit, fairer, I suppose. It curls into a long G going almost the entire length of the wand."

"Maybe it's for a person?"

"What makes you think that?"

"It's a heart, so maybe causing me to be inclined to love or be infatuated with someone, fair, tree, both are things that are parts of names, which can start with G. Pot, Potter, meaning me, Not sure about the circles, children, maybe? To tie me down? Ferret… no clue. But… The Weasel… we know Ron's a betrayer, and Ginny has a crush on me, so… her? Make me prone to liking her?"

Malinda raised an eyebrow. "You really are cleverer than you think, Audo. I want to take it to Olivander, he's older than the Flamel's, and unbiased, always has been. He only gives wand details to a few people, like the owners child when they buy their own, the person who owns a sibling wand, and the person who is bonded to a creature that gave a core. Rarely, if anyone, else. AND he binds the knowledge so that they can't tell anyone else, unless they're the owner of the wand. He has a sort of gift that tells him who to trust, and know who people are. He's impossible to fool, though it does make him seem quite strange, creepy, to some."

"You know him?"

"He's my Merlin knows how many greats grandfather, I visit him with my siblings and cousin Luna all the time."

"Cousin?"

"Luna lives in England, actually, she'll be in the year below us, she had Witchsight, too, but almost always uses it. She's been paranoid since someone sabotaged one of her mothers experiments and Tante Selene died. She seems stranger than Olivander, but she's alright. She sees creatures that I don't, because she always uses the Sight, and hears things, too. Wrackspurts, Nargles, Snorkacks and the like.

"Her father writes about them in the Quibbler, so people think they're both mad, even though they aren't. Witchsight… it's kind of connected to the Old Realm, where magic first came from. Most of the lost magic and creatures and things are still there, in the Realm, because they went back to save themselves from dying. They still come here, but most don't see them, unless they use Witchsight as much, as strongly, as Luna, but they are there, and they talk and show us things. Even if you can't see them, they guide you."

Harry let out a low whistle. "Wow," he said softly. "I think Mum can take us to Olivander today, I'll ask after Vernon and Dudley leave."

"Good. And then we'll incinerate your presents."

"You're going to teach me to throw fire?"

"Yes, before you accidentally torch something."

"If that something was Dumbledore?"

Malinda laughed. "You definitely are Veela," she said, still chuckling.

"Shh!" Harry said, not wanting to wake anyone up. "And what do you mean by that?"

"It's in Veela nature to… get revenge… on those that lie, defy, cheat, steal, or lie to us. Usually in a… permanent… fashion."

"Oh."

"We kill them. Full Veela are more prone to it, but part-bloods like us, are more… in control, I suppose. If we were full bloods, we'd already be after him." Did she look… look a little guilty? _Why, _Harry wondered, _would she be? It's a part of us, even if we don't like it. It's not our fault, not hers… Definitely not Melinda's…_

"I guessed that."

"Good night, Audo."

"G'night, 'Linda."

And the dark haired girl left, climbing through a kitchen window.

CHAPTER 4:

Petunia was, in fact, willing to take them to Olivanders' the next morning. After calling Mrs. Next Door, to tell her that she couldn't attend tea, as she was taking Harry to a counseling session (The neighbors were being told that Harry was no longer a hopeless case, he was improving quite a lot, and would be attending his mother's old boarding school on a writing scholarship next year if he continued to do so well over the summer) with one friend (Malinda) and her.

Mrs. Next Door was ecstatic n Petunia's behalf, babbling about how she always knew Petunia could turn the boy around, and wasn't she glad. Petunia agreed to meet her the next day, to discuss it more, and then took the two to London, leaving Mrs. Next Door to spread the news across Little Whinging behind them.

On the way to London Malinda and Harry used a mirror and old magazine's to come up with a face for Harry. He moved his scar to his shoulder, since he couldn't get rid of the blasted thing, gave himself bright violet-blue eyes, very dark blond (or slightly light brown, really, depending on how you looked at it) hair, and pale skin like Malinda's. His face shape was a little harder, but he gave himself a somewhat squarer face, changing it enough so that no-one would recognise him. They were, should anyone ask, Petunia's nieces' on Vernon's side, and attended Emrys Magia Accademia in Italy.

Diagon was bright enough, but everyone was worried about someone escaping Azkaban. The group paid them no mind and continued to the wand shop, although Malinda did comment about stopping by the book shop to pick up some books about the man.

The bell jingled as they walked into the dusty shop, and Malinda sighed happily, spinning around with her arms out. "È bene, Nereza?(1)" Harry asked, using the name she picked out for herself while they were there.

"Sì, sì, oh più fastidiose Baldovino! Non è un crimine di essere felice!(2)"

"Ah, I was wondering when my first silly little granddaughter would visit me."

"Nonno!(3)" Malinda shouted, launching herself at her Grandfather.

"Ha ha! Hello, my dear, and why might I ask, have you dragged poor Mr. Potter into whatever scheme you've cooked up?" Olivander laughed, looking like a storyteller recalling his favourite tale.

"I do not cook up schemes, Nonno!" Malinda laughed, fists on her hips in quite the comical manner. But her lips twitched, giving away her amusement.

"She is right, Nonno," came a dreamy voice as a pale girl with long white-blonde hair stepped out from between the shelves. "She never cooks a scheme, she braises and boils and cures it with nargles and honeysuckle roots."

"Hmph!" Malinda said, when everyone began to giggle, snort, chuckle, or guffaw. (Or all four in the case of Mister Olivander.) "Some people you lot are, picking on me!" At this Petunia doubled over laughing at how reminiscent she was of Harry in the mornings.

"Is she alright?" asked Malinda.

Before Harry could assure her, the blonde girl piped up, "Oh, she's fine, but I am quite sure that some Wrackspurts got at her."

"Wrackspurts?" Harry asked. Then, "You're Luna, Malinda's cousin?"

The girl cocked her head to the side. "I am. Do you know that you have more Cackling Humbiddlers than I have ever seen on one person? Even baby ones, they're all nested around your ears."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Oh, it's a very good thing, they only like people with good magical power."

"Good? Don't you mean light?"

"No, Dark and Light magic are just titles, magic is intent, really. You have a lot of good intent, I suppose, and your magic shows it."

By now Petunia had calmed down mostly, though she did squeak out a giggle now and then, and she, along with Olivander and Malinda, were watching Harry and Luna's conversation like a tennis match.

"Are we on display?" Luna asked, perfectly serious.

Malinda shook her head, "No, Lu. Just watching Harry talk to you. I knew he wouldn't think you're a nutter."

Harry thought this must be a family joke, because Luna just smiled absently and nodded. "I suppose you did, Ardith, you're rather better with people than I am."

"If you'd interact with them more, and turn down the Sight-"

Malinda was cut off by a very non-dreamy, sharp-spoken, "_No,_ Malinda Ardith Blake."

Harry was a little surprised, as was Malinda, if her face was anything to go by, but Olivander just rolled his eyes. "Will they ever stop this argument?" he muttered in his dry, storyteller's voice.

"No," Luna said, her distant manner back again as she watched something Harry couldn't see float around the ceiling. "Nonno, you have a Mung-Tiddler in your shop, do you have any elderberries for him?"

"In the back, Luna Moon." After the girl had gone, he shook his head and turned his piercing gaze in Malinda. "Stop antagonizing the poor girl, Ardith, please. She's happy, and that's all that matters. Now, what do you need?"

Malinda smiled sheepishly at his question. "Always knew me too well," she muttered before saying more clearly, "Erm, we, that is, Harry and me, have reason to believe that Harry's wand has been, er-"

"We think Dumblesnore carved runes in it to cause me harm." Harry said quickly, as Malinda tried to find a polite way to say it to the wandcrafter.

Said wandcrafter dropped his wand, and took on a rather frightening expression. "What. Did. You. Say. Boy?" He asked, as the air in the shop crackled and pinched, causing something near the ceiling to cry out and squawk, it's cloudy outline appearing as it fled to the back room.

Not willing to be cowed, (Or perhaps just being thick-headed) Harry explained, "Last night, 'Linda came over to wish me a happy birthday and scare the owls bringing my other presents with her Ward Breaker-" Here Olivander looked sharply at the girl, who just stared at the wood floor and toed them with her pointy-toes ankle boot. "Well, I got three, one from Hagrid, one from Ron, and one from Hermione, and then my Hogwash, er, Hogwarts, letter, and Malinda's with it, too." He paused to catch his breath for a moment, still worried of the wandcrafters' reaction. "And, well, er, the letters and the gift from Hagrid were okay, but Ron and Hermione's were both cursed by them and Dumbledore, to, erm-"

"The one had a small object inside cursed to cause Audo, Harry, to distrust everyone not keyed into it. The other one, would cause his broomstick to break within the year. Audo, if he couldn't possibly fly, he'd break, Nonno. _Break into pieces_."

"We, er, checked everything in my trunk, and my textbooks were charmed to make me forget what was in them more easily, my Weasley jumpers were imbued by Mrs. Weasley with cheering, warming, durability, and cleaning charms while she made them, from what 'Linda could tell, but had spells cast on them after they had been finished by the Headmaster to make m-me unlucky, er, fail easily, had tracking charms, and on the second year one, was one to make me prone to ignoring Ginny Weasley. The quill I got from Hermione Christmas this last year was spelled to make me not like writing things, really. My Flying with the Cannons book made me likely to do stupid, dangerous things while I'm flying."

"We checked hi-his wand, Nonno," Malinda picked up when he paused again, "and it had Fehu Reversed, Ansuz Reversed, Raidho Reversed, Gebo Merkstave, Wunjo Reversed, Hagalaz Merkstave, Nauthiz Reversed, Isa, Eihwaz Reversed, Tiwaz Reversed, Ehwaz Reversed, Mannaz Reversed, and Dagaz Merkstave. Carved in on a time trigger for the next few years, until Audo's eighteen. There was another, one I didn't recognise, though, Nonno. An odd one, with a sort of tree that had its' boughs shaping themselves into a heart, with a ferret, or a weasel, in the centre.

"The roots all curl up into a funny sort of pot, with these three circles at the top, all tied together with a string. It's kind of paler, really pale, compared to the other runes, just a bit, fairer, I guess. The-the string goes down it in a lowercase G that's going almost the entire length of the wand. We think it's to get Harry to like, er, be infatuated with Ginny Weasley, and likely to have kids, to tie him down to her. Three kids, we think. We have it with us, Petunia's carrying it, will you look at it?"

Olivanders' face had softened while they talked nineteen to the dozen, trying to explain it all. He motioned for Petunia to come forward, and she handed him the holly wand, which sparked a little as it left her fingers. Olivander hmm'd, and examined the wand. And then promptly threw it down in disgust. "That man-" here the ancient wandcrafter let out some colorful oaths that had Petunia clapping her hands over Harry's ears, while Malinda snorted and sniggered.

"You two-" Olivander pointed at Petunia and Harry, "-are getting new wands fitted to you, and don't even think of paying for them, Mister Potter, unless we can find a more suitable combination, you will still have the phoenix feather core. Come on, into the back room." Petunia and Harry followed, surprised and, in Petunias' case, more than a trifle shocked. Wand? She _was_ a Muggle, after all, wasn't she?

"Everything is set out, Nonno," Luna called from the opposite end of the room as she danced with something that Harry couldn't see. It seemed to be rather graceful, though, and lifted Luna up while it spun her around. "The slimbindgindlers said you were coming in to make wands."

"Thank you, Luna Moon," Olivander replied in an equally absent tone. "Mrs. Dursley, just reach your hand over the boxes of wood, with your eyes tightly shut, mind you, and choose the one or ones you feel pulled towards." Petunia, bemused, did as the old man asked.

"Mister Potter, you do the same for the wand cores, and - Malinda Ardith Blake, why are you shuffling?" The wandcrafters' voice was suddenly sharp. Malinda kept her face blank - but bit her lip. "You shorted out yet _another_ wand, didn't you young lady?"

"I, er, eet ees a funny story, actually, you zee, I 'ad not _mean'_ to do eet, but I-" Malinda spluttered, her natural French accent becoming more pronounced by the word.

"Eh eh _eh_," Olivander put a hand up. "Focus stones, pick one. Now."

"But - But - I thought zat-"

"Ardith, you obviously need _something_ to help your powers channel properly, and I'm not surprised, what with all of the Veela magic you do. Now have a stone choose you. Go."

"Si, Nonno."

"Today."

"Mister Olivander," Petunia spoke in nervous tones, "I'm stuck between two, and…"

"Ah! Ebony and Rosewood! Simply splendid milady! Now, find a core while I craft the wood properly for you, there's good. Very nice, Mister Potter, your core? Or should I say cores? My, my, you Evanses are a tricky lot, aren't you? Mister Potter, set the Basilisk Fang on my workbench before you stick yourself with it, please."

Forgetting to be polite, Harry mumbled indignantly, "If I can kill a Basilisk with just a stupid sword and a hat, I would _think_ I could be trusted to hold a fang properly," and then said a few choice words he had learned from Seventh Years… and Malinda. Mostly Malinda. But the Seventh Years were at fault too. Kinda… Not really, no.

Olivander swirled and faced Harry, looking him in the eye, "You, at age twelve fought and killed a basilisk? With a sword and hat? Good God boy, what were you thinking?"

Now properly cowed (or just not being so thick-headed… again…), Harry stammered, "I, er, didn't want Ginny to die, 'cause she's Ron's sister, and I didn't know he was a-" here Harry called Ron a name that made Malinda say 'Harry!' "and that I didn't want to get eaten, or let Riddle come back through the diary, and-"

"Riddle? Tom _Marvolo_ Riddle? Circe! Merlin! Mother of magic HEKATE! For all that is magic or not, what goes on at that school?" Olivander shouted.

"I think it's quite obvious, Nonno. A few tonnes of complete insanity mixed in with a heavy amount of shady dealings and a certain Bumblebees manipulations," Luna said softly.

"Bumblebee?" Harry murmured to Malinda.

"Dumbledore's Old English for it, Audo."

"'Kay."

"Oh just get your wand materials," Olivander groaned, shaking his head, and putting it in his palm.

Harry ended up with an Elder wand and a Basilisk fang and Fawkes' feather as the core, and Olivander insisted on a focus stone, which ended up being an amethyst. Malinda's was an Elm wand with an Ashwinder scale and a Hippogriff talon core. Her focus stone was a bloodstone.

Now, Aunt Petunia, she was really, really nervous. Olivander ended up measuring her magic with a little bronze thing and said she was getting a focus stone, lest she short out her wand before she left his shop. "Evanses," he said, "Always an Amethyst focus stone." Her core was an Augurey wing feather, and she was quite proud of it, thankyouverymuch.

After they were done, Malinda said to them, "Now. Bookstore." And then she dashed off before they could answer, or reply, or do anything, really.

CHAPTER 5:

"Non-no-o-o!" Malinda whinged as she was pulled along by her Great-?-Great Grandfather towards Platform Nine and Three Quarters. "Why can't I go back to Sa-al-le-em-m?"

"Because," Luna piped up cheerily, "You need to protect Harry from bumblebees." She was perfectly serious as she said it, however.

Malinda scowled. "You are _mean._"

Harry rolled his eyes (something Malinda had forced him to become quite proficient at) and snapped, "We don't care, you are forced to put up with abysmal schooling, so are we, and hopefully you can hide in the dungeons!" Passersby began to stare.

"Fine," the sable-haired girl huffed moodily.

"Glad you see it our way, mon ami," Harry muttered. "And I learned French, you even said I'm good enough to teach. Now when are you teaching me to learn languages?"

"On the train!" Malinda grumped.

"Isn't it a lovely day out?" Luna asked carelessly.

"Fine!" the two brunettes snapped. The girl blinked owlishly at them, becoming quite reminiscent to the old man dragging her cousin along.

"You both seem to be infested by Diglederogdites, you know."

"Oh, for the love of Pete," Malinda muttered.

"Who's Pete?"

"Gnyah!"

"Weasley alert," Harry muttered, and the two girls (well one girl was squabbling, and the other was listening happily to her cousins'' prattle.) stopped their squabbling and took on blank faces, (Or, in Luna's case, began watching Nargles float around peoples' heads.) while forming a tighter circle around Harry, who made sure his Baldovino Durante look was in place, as they walked towards the barrier.

"Oi, you!" Called Ron. Harry and the rest turned around to face the red-haired brute, who promptly let his jaw fall to the floor when he recognised Mr. Olivander. "Cor," he said, "I thought you never left your shop! What're you doing with those freaks?" Ginny snorted, laughing a little, but George, Fred, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and Percy all looked shocked. "Ronald Weasley!" Percy and Molly shouted at the same time. They looked at each other, shrugged, and continued, still in unison, "You take that back right now, or I will not hesitate to make you and then wash your mouth out with soap, vanish your bones, and force Skele-Grow down your vile throat!"

Fred and George, meanwhile, stood away from the main group, and were looking over a piece of parchment, then glancing between their younger siblings, and then smirking devilishly. Mr. Weasley was lecturing Ginny, and then turned to Olivander, Luna, Malinda, Haven, (Who had mercifully shut up. Of course, Malinda _had_ Silenced him… but still…) and Harry, still looking like 'Baldovino.' "I'm terribly sorry about my two youngest Mister Olivander, Luna. Though may I ask, who are these teenagers? Did you take on Apprentices?" He looked like he was grasping at straws, trying to make up for his children's' rudeness with politeness in conversation on his part.

Olivander smiled, "My several-greats grandchildren, little Luna's cousins, actually. They had lived in France, but transferred from Durmstrang and Salem respectively to attend Hogwarts. I'll be seeing you, Arthur."

"Have a good day, sir."

And then Harry's group rushed through the barrier. "Bye Nonno!" Luna and Malinda said sadly, each giving him a hug and a kiss good-bye. "We'll write!"

Haven nodded to the old man. "I'm going to find food."

Harry shook Olivanders hand. "'Bye. Do you have a first name? I never asked?"

The wandcrafter laughed his papery laugh. "No-one ever does, Audo! No-one ever does. I don't, actually, family names weren't around until a few centuries after my birth. Now off you get!" He ruffled Harry's hair and walked away, somehow disappearing without Apparating.

Harry nodded and rushed off after Malinda, mentally smacking his forehead for not thinking to put all of his things in a suitcase like Malinda's. _I'm an idiot!_ He thought to himself.

They found a compartment in the back, near the car's bathroom, and the trio arranged themselves comfortably, Haven having disappeared off who (and most definitely not Merlin) knows where. Half an hour later, Luna and Malinda were gladly and wholeheartedly explaining Witchsight to Harry when the compartment opened. Harry was glad he had kept up the Baldovino look when Ron entered, followed closely by Hermione.

"Piss off," the red haired boy said angrily, "This is our compartment!"

Malinda raised an eyebrow and said coolly, "Nie sme novi studenti i bi otsenila, ako deformirani brats shte ostavi. Otidi yadat zhaba.(4)" Luna turned from the duo at the door and mouthed to Harry, 'Bulgarian.' He nodded and looked up at his betrayers. He felt a strong urge to stab them.

Perhaps it _was_ a good thing he was not full Veela.

Ron looked disgusted, and Hermione befuddled. She said in very good French, "Uh, Pardon me, I do not understand? Who are you? My friend and myself would like to sit?"

Malinda rolled his eyes, but Harry said, in equally good French, (Malinda, while a harsh teacher that would put McGonagall though her paces with strictness, was a good one, all in all) "We are new students, my apologies, but we were instructed to sit in a compartment in the back of the train until we reached the, eh, a castle, is it not? The school, and we were formally introduced. Only Luna here speaks English. We are Olivanders some-greats grandchildren, and he, eh, pulled some strings, to allow us to enter the prestigious British school."

Hermione flushed and nodded. "Come on Ron, they're exchange students, don't disturb them."

Once they had left, Luna put up silencing and notice-me-not charms. "Very good French, Audo. Ardith, didn't you say that you would teach Audo the Language Trick?"

"I will, I will, but first, Audo, did you mail ahead for those new classes?"

"Yes, I did the day we went to Diagon, Lin. Petunia sent a Howler when we didn't get a reply, and then McGonagall sent a note saying that I got the classes."

"What classes are you taking, Audo?" Luna asked.

"Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, I signed up to take the Muggle Studies O.W.L. in Fifth Year, Erm, I'm self-studying Divination, and I think that's it. Yeah, it is."

"I'm doing the same, Lu, someone has to watch this lunk," Malinda drawled out.

The rest of the train ride passed peaceably, and only once they had slipped their robed over their Muggle attire and had reached the castle did Harry revert his features back to their normal state, just remembering, at the last second, to put his scar back on his forehead.

Hermione couldn't help but flush at the Gothic French boy. He was cute, really, and very polite. Unlike Ronald, who was stuffing his face with chocolate frogs. But, strangely, she couldn't quite remember his or his cousins' faces. Drat! And she hadn't gotten his name, either. Where was Harry? Dumbledore wouldn't let her read in the Restricted Section if he didn't have a report. Oh! There he was, at the middle of table. With no seats near him. That stupid idiot! She needed to report!

The Sorting was starting.

The Sorting was starting.

"Aston, Jake," went to Ravenclaw.

"Blake, Haven." Gryffindor. Joy upon Joys.

"Blake, Malinda."

"SLYTHERIN!"

And so it went until Eloise Midgen was Sorted, and McGonagall bgan to call out the next name. "Ro-"

"WAIT!" The Sorting Hat said, slapping McGonagall's list smartly with it's tip. "Potter, Harry James! I am Sorting you PROPERLY this time, and you will happily accept it!" The Hat seemed almost… giddy? Bemused, but amused at the same moment, Harry smiled blandly and walked up to the so very glorified Hat then said loudly to the Hat, (The boy just liked causing a stir too much, really) "Slytherin, right? That is what I talked you out of before."

"SLYTHERIN YOU TWERP!"

The Hall was silent. Then Luna called out, "Audo, Blibbering Humdingers wait for no-one! People want to be Sorted! And eat, I suppose!"

Harry grinned, thanked the Hat, and walked over to the Slytherin table grinning, and sat down next to Malinda Ardith Blake.

Potter was in HIS House.

Potter was HAPPY to be in his House.

Potter already had a FRIEND in his House.

Potter was only a Gryffindor because he asked the HAT.

Why?

Severus Tobias Snape dreadfully wanted some stiff Firewhisky.

CHAPTER 6:

Harry scratched his head and asked the rat-ish looking boy next to him, "Please pass the marmalade."

The boy did so, and asked, "How is it that the fist Parselmouth since the Dark Lord himself got into Slytherin in the first place, Potter?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, "Malfoy was a git, and I didn't want to share a dorm with him. Simple as that. Is there any treacle tart?"

"Nope, there isn't. And who was that little blonde Ravenclaw talking to you when you were re-Sorted?"

"Luna Lovegood, Malinda's cousin, Olivanders' granddaughter, she's nice, really. Quite clever."

"So you were a Gryffindork because of Malfoy being - " here the boy dropped off.

"A smarmy git?"

"Yeah."

"Pretty much."

"Why didn't you mind getting put into a new House?"

"Because Malinda's brother Haven is an even worse git than Malfoy, and I was glad I didn't have to share the place I sleep with him. He and Malinda are twins, and going into our year."

The boy was about to reply when Malfoy himself called out, "How's it feel to be a snake, eh, Potter? Going to cry to your dead Mummy?"

"Twenty points from Slytherin Mister Malfoy, for disloyalty to your House. Potter, Blake, my office, after the Feast. Stay with the First Years when you reach the Common Room." Snape spoke softly, but they caught every word. Malfoys' mouth dropped, and he began to splutter and complain. "Gather yourself in a manner befitting the Scion of House Malfoy, or I shall happily assist you in moving to more fitting quarters. Red and gold might seem fitting, perhaps?"

Draco glared at his plate, but nodded. "My office," Snape repeated.

Malinda turned to Harry. "Audo." he turned to her. "Alors quelles seront les classes comme mon ami? Serons-nous besoin de verser sur nos livres supplémentaires pour apprendre quelque chose?(5)"

"Je suis sûr que nous allons, Lin, Hogwash a tendance à pourrir le cerveau de tout semblant de compétence.(6)"

Malinda laughed, and they continued in French, and Luna joined in a while later, annoyed at her Housemates' teasing and general refusal to believe in what they could not see, until the Feast ended, and then they said good-bye to Luna, and followed the other Slytherins to the dungeons.

"_You,_" Snape began as he stalked into the common room, "are the Heirs of Slytherin." He put up a hand at some of the gasps heard throughout the Common Room. "I do not speak of the _drama,_" he sneered. "That went on last year. No. You were all chosen to continue a legacy of cunning, wit, and ambition. Should you _fail_ to meet this Houses high standards… your stay shall not be pleasant. When you reach your rooms, you will find a pamphlet explaining what will be expected of you during your stay, what you will put up with from most other students, and other basics of life in Hogwarts Castle. Do not disappoint me. Bed!"

The students all scurried off, but Malinda and Harry stayed behind. Snape nodded to them. "Blake, Potter, follow me."

After an exasperatingly long speech about how they had better behave, etcetera and some such annoying yet possibly-ish completely accurate accusations, warnings, and veiled threats. Then he sent them off to their rooms. Melinda was a lucky prat, with her own room. Harry was stuck with some bloke named Blaise Zabini.

Translations:

**(1) È bene, Nereza? - You alright, Nereza? Italian**

**(2) Sì, sì, oh più fastidiose Baldovino! Non è un crimine di essere felice! - Yes, yes, oh most annoying Baldovino! It is no crime to be glad! Italian**

**(3) Nonno! - Grandfather! Italian**

**HJP-Elder and Basilisk fang with Fawkes feather. Focus stone: Amethyst**

**MAB-Elm and Serpent scale with Hippogriff talon. Focus Stone: Bloodstone**

**PED- Ebony Rosewood and Augurey wing feather Focus Stone: Amethyst**

**(4) Nie sme novi studenti i bi otsenila, ako deformirani brats shte ostavi. Otidi yadat zhaba.- Ние сме нови студенти и би оценила, ако деформирани brats ще остави. Отиди ядат жаба.**

**- We are new students and would appreciate if you deformed brats would leave. Go eat a frog. - Bulgarian**

**(5) So what will the classes be like my friend? Will we be needing to pour over our extra books to learn anything? - Alors quelles seront les classes comme mon ami? Serons-nous besoin de verser sur nos livres supplémentaires pour apprendre quelque chose? - French**

**(6) Je suis sûr que nous allons, Lin, Hogwash a tendance à pourrir le cerveau de tout semblant de compétence - I am sure we shall, Lin, Hogwash tends to rot the brain of any semblance of competence - French**

**(7) Sureau - Elder/Elder tree/Elderberry. Lamia Sureau - Harry's Grandmum(French.)**

**(8) **


	4. Esther Potter

Esther Potter had always been a strange girl.

Everyone at least thought that about her. At least once. Usually more. Esther smirked. None of them had any clue just how strange. The world expected the famous daughter of Lily Evans and James Potter to be in Gryffindor, where all the Heroes were. She went into the House of Snakes, surprise, surprise. At first, she acted like she was expected, bottled up the real her, and was scared of the 'icky, horrid, nasty snakes that would murder her in her bed! Tch. Really, she wasn't surprised. She had known about magic since she was around four and her loving Aunt had quite literally thrown her out the back window into the snowy garden to keep out from under foot and she had started talking to some snakes.

Of course, once magic had been discovered, that opened up a whole new _realm_ of possibilities.

Namely terrorizing her legal guardians. A bit of fire her, some broken glass, banging doors and /or windows there… N real harm done, right? Stopped them from hitting her and got her out of that damn cupboard, at least. Esther thought back to first year. Naïveté. She was confident that she was the only eleven year old then without it. She had no friends within her House, only allies afraid of what she would do. She hadn't known when she entered Hogwarts that any words spoken in Parseltongue in the Common Room bound the House. Then to think, she a Parselmouth. Pity for the rest.

A troll attacked on Hallowe'en, and her study partner, another outcast, Gryffindor, was almost attacked by a troll after getting upset at some words a red-headed arse spat at her for being a help. Esther had found her shortly after nicking food from the feast, in time to watch Quirrell lead a troll into the school and then run for the Great Hall screaming, and then they both shrugged and set off to the library. Who cared if a troll got in? No more than what the pit of shite called the Wizarding World deserved.

Esther and the Gryffindor, Hermione, became closer after that. Hermione developed a healthy loathing for authority figures, and Esther trained her in decent magic. Wands were stupid. They weren't friends, per se, they would sell the other out in a second if it benefitted them, but they were tentative allies. They spent a fair bit of their time sneaking over to work with the magical creatures, and Esther found some strange leathery horse things called thestrals. Hermione couldn't see them yet.

Quirrell kept them back one day, and said that he saw them watch as he let the troll in. Hermione had rolled her eyes, "So? If some idiot got killed, it was their own fault. I'm _sure_ you were just bringing it in for a lesson in the NEWT classes, oh most esteemed Professor." Quirell had smirked at that. Smirked at that indeed.

The purple-lover had stolen a rock at the end of the year, and Nicholas Flamel – wow, he did exist – had raged into the school and given Dumblies a good what-for about it. Esther had caught up with him afterward, and said bluntly to him and the old woman next to him, "You faked him. Gave him a false rock."

The old man chuckled and his wife elbowed him, "I knew that there had to be someone smarter than the old idiot."

Esther had smirked back at the pair, "Of course, the old, well to me old, coot isn't that clever, just a chess master." The Flamel's had laughed quite loudly at that. Hermione, in her typical fashion, had hidden _inside_ a suit of armor and heard the whole thing. She found it funny. Hermione, after they got off of the train, introduced Esther to her parents. Of course the Dursleys just had to ruin it all. Vernon re-grew some semblance of a spine over the year, and decked her one in front of two dentists, a crowd of people, and some Bobbies. Idiot. A lawyer came up afterward to say he'd be happy to represent her, free of charge. Apparently he had a thing against child abuse.

The Grangers actually adopted her, and while put off by her somewhat pessimistic attitude, liked her well enough. They were happy that Nee was more direct than before, and adept socially. A bit more snarky, too, actually. They found a House Elf in her room, though. Dobby, his name was. He wouldn't sit still long enough to stop hitting himself, so she smacked him on the back of the head and said he wasn't to cause himself or anyone else bodily harm in her house, and that he was to keep his voice at a neutral level as long as he was in her family home.

Then he predicted doom at Hogwarts. She smiled, patted his head a tad condescendingly, and said that she'd watch for it, but she really must protect her adoptive sister. Dobby burst into tears and agreed, then left. She liked the little bugger, she decided. The Grangers got some interesting clients a day or so after Esther's birthday, a couple called Mason and their daughter. The mum was in a horrid mood and when asked ranted about a piggish family called Dursley and how awful they were, disgusting, really. The wife was horsey and nosy and rude, a terrible cook. The husband self righteous and loud, and the brat of a son took after him, lazy and slow. Esther smiled at that and said she could sympathize. "They were my legal guardians until the start of the summer, but oddly, hitting your ward repeatedly in a public place gets guardianship revoked."

The daughter, Luminista, had smiled at that, and they spent the waiting time with Hermione chatting about boorish adults and idiotic peers. Lovely girl, really, about their age. Small and freckly, with big black eyes and long white-blonde hair. The Granger family had a new set of regular customers after that.

Nee and Esther met a new kid on the train when they went back to Pigpimples. Luna Christine Lovegood. She had long blonde hair, and big silvery blue eyes; a regular Hitler's child. And a Pure-blooded witch that knew what the term meant. She knew quite a bit about thestrals and several obscure creatures, and she and Hermione debated on Ministry conspiracies for a few hours before deciding the Wizarding World was corrupt, and that they would buy a flat in Muggle Austria at the first opportunity. The girl was sorted into Ravenclaw, and promptly hexed the youngest Weasley boy when he bragged about crashing into a very expensive tree that hit people. And so came the completion of the trio! Fun.

DumbOldIdiot noticed, of course, and applauded her for breaking down barriers, and asked that she please be safe from her Housemates, and treat them well, that they may not turn to the Dark. Esther raised an eyebrow. "So when will you be teaching me the Imperius Curse, then, Professor?" she asked. The old man got a strange look on his face, and she left soon after that.

A monster attacked everyone, and Hermione figured out it was a Basilisk. They chatted with Moaning Myrtle about pleasant things, like her death, and Luna sketched things. She asked their opinions on the drawings, and Myrtle found that she enjoyed being an art critic. Luna drew a very realistic snake one day, and showed it to Esther. "Open the eyes some more," Esther said. It came out like hissing, and a sink sank into the floor. Esther was a Slytherin for a reason, so when she heard someone coming, she hissed out, *Close!* and hid in a bathroom stall, the noises drowned by a helpful Myrtle's wailing. A red-haired girl in Luna's year told the tunnel to open, and made stairs, then brought out a ruddy basilisk.

Luna later identified her as Ronald Arse-Face's little sister. Of course they decided to talk to her after that. They waited in the huge chamber in there for her for a few hours each day, and near the end of the year, they got lucky. Ninny, no Ginny, stopped short. "Why are you here?" she asked slowly.

"We got bored," Luna said of-handedly, as if it were obvious. Then again, it was.

"Shouldn't you be asking how we got here, Ginevra?" asked Hermione.

Ginny stepped back. *_Speak to me Slytherin-_* she began,

*-_Greatest of the Hogwarts Four,_* only to finish with Esther. The basilisk came out of Sally's mouth and promptly moved over to Ginny and Esther to be pet. Luna noticed that the Diary Ginny was carrying was infested with Herfulnutgallsits and fed it to the giant snake. Ginny fainted after that, and they had to carry her to the Hospital Wing, and promised the Basilisk, Sansya, that they would be back after summer break.

Dumbledore made the 'Dorks, Snakes, and Bluesies tie for the House Cup after he found out about it. Hermione, Esther, Luna, Ginevra, and the Hufflepuffs had a spectacular time pranking everyone. The Snakes were in Red and Gold, the 'Dorks in Green and Silver, and the Bluesies dresses up like Death Eaters. Snipe was Gellert Grindelwald, McGonagall was R2D2 and Flitwick was Yoda. DumberThanADoorknocker got to be a Moldy Dark Lord Sandwich That Flees From Death TM. Now Complete with wanna-be snake face. Of course, they three of them and Ginevra were just oh-so-innocently chatting with Diggory and Chang at the Badger table when it happened. _Oops._

A wizard escaped from Azkaban over the summer. Esther had read in an old children's book about herself that he was her Godfather. "Pity," she said to Hermione. "The bloke would have made great leverage at the Dursley's. Did you know Tuney got caught shoplifting at the grocers?"

They visited Luna and 'Nevra over the holidays and had great fun taunting MoRon and racing around the orchard. Pelting Muggles with dungbombs was great fun, as well. Apparently, if you lived in a magical area, the Ministry of Magical Idiots couldn't track your magic. Imagine that. School started again, and Snape-ing Turtle saw Esther flying near the Forbidden Forest with 'Nevra, Luna, and Nee. Well, the first three were flying, and Nee was doing loop-de-loops. Of course the rat made her join the Quidditch team as Seeker, unless she wanted to risk suspension and/or expulsion. Lovely. She threw the matches, making the Snakes win by just enough to get into the finals with the Gryffindorks and trounce them.

Her House wasn't quite so bad after that.

The new DADA teacher was a werewolf. And not all that good at hiding it. Luna knew at the Sorting Feast because of his lack of Nirfendlompstins and Ginevra figured it out after the first class she had with him, when he accidently knocked over a crate with a Boggart in it and it turned into a full moon. Esther knew by his appearance, which was typical for a 'docile' Were of any type, but the complete lack of facial hair, excluding eyebrows, coupled with the silver and amber-flecked eyes were a dead giveaway. Hermione figured it out after checking for sure after the first two full moons of the school year. She liked to be exact like that.

The man was a brilliant teacher, however. He didn't even flinch when, after Hallowe'en, he called on Hermione or Esther, they were sitting together, to ask a question at the start of class and they stood and said together quite clearly, "When do we learn about Weres, Professor Lupin?" He didn't flinch, just smiled and said they would near Christmas. He was rather quiet for the rest of the Hour, but that was the only thing different.

Nee and Esther took the same classes, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Muggle studies, Muggle Studies, happily getting a Time Turner each out of the deal.

Ooh-hoo, the _pranks._


	5. Then the Slytherins started sniggering

There a couple of rules in life that every idiot should know. First, life sucks, oh whah. Second, when you are the only one left standing, other than a snake-faced wizard out to kill you, it's a damn good idea to have a time travelling spell handy. Mine's activated via the Killing Curse. So, because of this, I am now spinning in a sickeningly pink tinted vortex, hopefully to meet my younger self and keep the world from going to shit.

"Hera Potter!" How many times do I have to say that my name is Aarika Hera Potter before it penetrated their thick skulls?

"Hera Potter!" I snapped my head up, glaring at the Headmaster. The Goblet of Fire sat right in front of him. Oh, _damn._ I stood slowly, my face carefully blank. I would not blow up another chandelier. I would not blow up another chandelier. I would not blow up another chandelier. _I would not blow up another chandelier._ Or the old bastard. Yet.

I made sure not to look in that manipulative old coot's eyes and said in a quiet voice that I hoped sounded like a scared teenager's, "Headmaster, what the bloody hell is going on?"

Hermione slapped my arm, "Language!" Witch.

"Miss Potter, if you would please go into the chamber with the other champions-"

"No." The Hall was shocked, Dumblesnore baffled, and the foreign teachers and students smirked.

"Pardon me, Miss Potter?"

"Please forgive me sir, I wasn't aware you suffered a lack of hearing. I will not go into the champions' chamber for the THREE champions, as I am not a champion, did not enter my name, and it is illegal to have an extra competitor. I am not a champion, I do not want to be a champion, and I will not spend yet another year in this death trap that passes itself off as a school if my life is going to be threatened for the, oh, what was it, FOURTH time in four years." With that, I sat down on the bench and concentrated solely on my food.

The Hall was very quiet.

Then the Slytherins started sniggering.


	6. Meeting, Teaching, Himself

Severus sneered to himself as he watched the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw First Years file in from behind a shelf. There was Perfect Potter, new Ravenclaw, chattering away softly with another Ravenclaw, a black-haired Muggle-Born, he thought. She rolled her eyes at him and smacked the back of his head, then pulled out a Potions text, not the one he assigned, and pointed something out. Potter made a face and pulled out his own Potions book, still not the one he assigned, and read out from it, then smirked triumphantly. Arrogant brat. The girl glared at him and shook her head resolutely; dark hair whipping around her face, and pointed at a lower spot in the book, then smirked. Cheeky little nitwit.

He slammed the door that was behind him and the shelf, to catch the dunderheads' attention, and gave his usual first day of potions speech. While Potter and the rest looked nervous, or determined to do well and flaunt their smarts, the cheeky brunette just raised an eyebrow at her classmates and shifted into a more comfortable position in her chair. Severus called the role - giving Potter the bloody attention he so craved, good or bad - and watched the students for a moment, before calling on the dark-haired girl. "Gaunt! What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

The girl gave him a blank stare, and just as he opened his mouth to take points for her insufferable cheek, said in a flat voice, "Seven letters, Professor Snape. It's also called aconite, leopard's bane, women's bane, Devil's helmet and blue rocket, belongs to the buttercup family, and has blue, pink, purple, yellow, and white blooms." Severus glared at the upstart little chit.

"Where might I find a bezoar then, Miss Gaunt?"

"An Apothecary, who gets it from the stomach of a goat, or any other bovine. It is a cure to most poisons."

Brat. "An infusion of asphodel and wolfsbane makes what, Miss Gaunt?"

The girl bit her lip. Didn't know everything then, did she? Then the arrogant brat smiled at him and said in a chipper tone, "A very lovely explosion, Professor Snape, unless you use a base, usually water or lavender oil, and add various stabilising ingredients in the proper order, creating the Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion that mimics death, freezing the subject in time, only curable by true love's kiss, or the antidote. I find the former more romantic, however. It's rather popular in Muggle fairy tales."

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Miss Gaunt, fo-"

"For cheek, Mister Snape, because I got the answers to a sixth year text correct, rather than allowing you to belittle me like a bumbling idiot Gryffindor? Sir, my name isn't Ronald Weasley; he was in here last hour." Was he that arrogant of a little bastard when he was a first year? Snape wondered.

The answer came a week later, when he saw Draco Malfoy, his godson, on the ground in a fetal position, looking very much like a slug. Gaunt leaned over him, face devoid of any emotion, other than her eyes, which burned like blue fire. "Call me Mudblood again, ingrate, and you'll beg your precious Governor Daddy to expel you from Hogwarts." She flicked her finger at him, and the blonds' eyes became unfocused as he fell backwards, asleep.

Yes. Yes he had been, and Adalinda Gaunt was just like him.

Snape decided that he did not like meeting, or teaching, himself. Not that he would change, of course.


	7. Even in death, his love haunted him

"Ring around the rosey, pockets full of posey. Ashes, ashes, all fall down . . . You _have _to try this, Albus_!_"

Albus smiled at the pretty redhead next to him. "I don't know, Lilianne. You look like a fool from over here. I wouldn't want to seem as odd as you."

His best friend smacked his arm, still spinning in the grass, her boots Merlin knew where. "Oh, hush! We all know your bloody mental, anyway."

"I resent that, but I do not deny it. You've convinced me."

"YES!" Lilianne grabbed Albus by the shoulders and pulled him up, forcing him to spin with her. "Ring around the rosey, pockets full of posey. Ashes, ashes, all fall down," she sang softly, watching her friend's face.

Albus smiled crookedly at her.

She was his best friend in the world, and he loved her more than anything. "Come on," he said to her, "why don't we go to the book shop? I saw the most interesting book on magical theory on Thursday and . . . "

Lilianne laughed. "Of course, Albus. Who am I to turn down a book?"

.

Time passed. They married, and had the most beautiful child. By the time Rosemary was two, it was obvious that she shared her mother's love of plants, her father's power, and an intelligence all her own.

Lilianne died when Mary was three, on a day to the city. His daughter's body was never found, and Albus hoped against hope that his little girl had lived through the fire. The year was 1925; he was forty-five, and Lilianne had been forty.

.

Rosemary smiled at Harold Evans; he was a wonderful man, and unlike _some_ people, he didn't give a damn that she was an orphan. _Don't think about that, Mary, _she told herself sternly, trying not to think about the only memory she had of her parents - red hair, twinkling blue eyes, and the children's song '_Ring around the Rosey._'

Harold held her hand. "I do."

"You may now kiss the bride."

True love's first kiss. _Maybe there's something to fairy tales, after all,_ Rosemary thought.

.

Lily hugged her sister tight. "I wuv you too, Tuney," she smiled.

Petunia held her red-haired sister close. "I'm glad; now let me help you put on the locket, you little munchkin!"

"Nowt a mushken, Tuney!" Lily giggled.

"Whatever!" Petunia laughed as she closed the clasp to the pendant. "Now never, _ever_, take that off, okay? Mummy got it from her mummy before her mummy died, and I got it from Mummy, and now you have it. See, look. _Albus and Lilianne, married 1899._"

Lily's eyes widened as she held the bronze circle in her palm. "I's so _owd!_" she breathed in awe.

"Yep," Petunia nodded, "And it's special too. You're even named for Mummy's mummy! When you have a baby, then they can have it. Okay?"

"But wha' iff you wanna give it too youw baby, Tuney?"

Petunia smiled and crinkled her nose at hr little sister. "Well I suppose that I'll just have to tickle you to get it back, now won't I?"

Lily shrieked and ran from the living room, screaming not to be tickled. Petunia shook her head. _If the world goes mad, even then I won't take it back; it's Lily's now. A gift of love, just like Mum said._

.

Lily smiled down at her baby, her Harry. Clutching the bronze amulet, she whispered, "This is so special, Harry darling. No matter what, you'll always be connected to family so long as you wear it. I love you, sweet heart."

Harry cooed as she clasped the pendant around his neck. Smiling, Lily watched as her son took it in both hands and bit the end. "No, Harry, not for biting."

Somehow, it seemed like her child understood, and he dropped it, op[ting instead to hold her index finger and smile.

"Maaaama."

"Mama," Lily agreed.

.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"Mama!"

.

Albus smoothed down the dark haired child's hair. Something bronze caught the light. He pulled at the plaid blanket a little and his mouth dropped in shock; Lilianne's necklace.

_Could that mean . . . ? _No, he told himself sternly. His family was dead. More likely then not the necklace was found in the streets when his baby Mary died and someone in Lily's family kept it. He couldn't get his hopes up. Even if Harry was his great grandson, he would be happier with his aunt and uncle, with a boy his own age, than with a stuffy old man in a drafty castle with people hero worshipping him.

"Good-bye for now, Harry," he whispered.

As he Apparated away, he remembered a song from so very long ago, one that he'd thought he'd forgotten.

"Ring around the rosey, pockets full of posey. Ashes, ashes, all fall down . . . You _have _to try this, Albus_!_"

Even in death, his love haunted him.


	8. The Witches of St Trinians

Charlotte hugged her two best friends in the world . . . Her only friends in the world. "This has to work, you two," she whispered, her eyes filled with tears.

Luna and Hermione hugged her back.

"Don't worry," Luna said, smiling. Hermione nodded and swallowed, then started going over everything to make sure that this would work.

The world was ending; the people just didn't know it yet.

Ron had joined Voldemort and killed all of the Weasleys, even his cousin Malfalda, the only Slytherin Weasley in history. Ginny had watched the whole thing, bound to the front door of the Burrow, and forced to watch as her family was killed one by one. Her dying magic had exploded and sent a Patronus message of what had happened.

Hermione had killed Ron three months later. A Reducto to the heart, after his Avada Kedavra was absorbed by the baby that he had sired in her stomach.

Hagrid was dead, at Lucius Malfoy's hand, as was Draco when he had been found out as Charlotte's spy. Too bad the elder Malfoy had cast the Killing Curse _after_ his son cast a knife throwing hex. Narcissa died of alcohol poisoning a week later.

Grawp died at the hands of the centaurs soon after. Nymphadora Tonks had been lynched with her husband, a fellow Auror, and their twin daughters, Lilac and Violet. Tonks had chosen the names for the colours the girls' hair turned after they were born.

Albus had died defending Hogwarts . . . From the Order. He died protecting Death Eaters and their children. He thought that they had turned to the light. They hadn't. A five year old, Agrona Zabini, delivered the killing blow, oddly enough. Albus had shielded her from the blast of the walls of Hogwarts finally breaking, only for the tiny, sweet-looking girl to stab him in the stomach with a knife she had been keeping in her sleeves. Charlotte had been the one to find the old mans body.

Remus had been killed by vampires. Neville by Bellatrix's killer . . . Rudolphus Lestrange.

Everyone else had died in similar manners. Like it had already been said; the world was ending, the people just didn't know it yet.

Charlotte, Luna and Hermione had made simulacrum of themselves, which had 'died' at the hands of some junior Death Eaters. The animated bodies of snow had melted away soon after, but everyone left in the Wizarding World was still celebrating the last of the 'Rebel Trio's' death's. The Muggle economy was collapsing as well, since wizards had infiltrated them and destroyed everything, just to show that they could. Muggles were dying left and right, and were reverting back to how things had been a hundred years ago. Queen Elizabeth II was no longer a figurehead, and had taken the UK by storm, shocking people the world over. The UK had come out pretty well so far. America was in a disarray, with everything in complete chaos. It may as well be in a state of civil war. Although, it might be. Perhaps the ships hadn't gotten there yet. Planes were pretty useless now. Somehow wizards had gotten it in their heads to destroy most of the world's oil.

Alcohol was rising in popularity, both as fuel and as . . . Other things.

The world was already dead; it was just too stubborn to admit it.

"Ready?"

Charlotte lifted her head to look at her curly-haired friend. "Yeah, Herms. Do you two remember what you have to do different?"

Luna nodded. "I have the cloning amulet," she said seriously. Somehow, even though Luna had stopped her happy airiness over a decade ago, Charlotte would never become used to it.

"So do I," Hermione said, taking a deep breath.

They all grabbed hands and stepped into the circle, chanting. The runes glowed, the time turner dust spun around them like a cyclone, their hair whipped about, the air grew heavy and thick, Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, and then -

It all stopped.

Charlotte opened her eyes.

Dark.

She scrambled to get up, and thanked God in heaven above that she was apparently small enough to slide through the grate on the door to the cupboard. Petunia had had Vernon put it in when she was five; she had gotten it loose enough to climb through when she was seven. Her shoulders squeezed through. Okay, about eight now. She wouldn't fit in another year.

She snuck into the living room and snatched anything small and valuable. Now where were Aunt Petunia's cigarette's . . .

She grabbed what she could carry, then lit the little white thing and set it on the couch, smiling at the still noticeable tag on middle cushion. '**WARNING: **HIGHLY FLAMMABLE.'

Now to get to Hermione and Luna.

.

Hermione looked at her younger self. _See you, me,_ she thought, slipping from the bed. She froze when the younger her's eye's snapped open.

"Who are you?"

Hermione kept from smirking. Why not tell herself the truth? "I'm you from the future, Hermione; you're going to get a letter when you're eleven from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The things you do are magic. Try and train it now, because the wizards use wands. And go to Beauxbatons instead, or flee to Australia, something. The wizards are at war, and if you're not from a magic family, they'll try and kill you. ME and my two best friends came back to stop it. And don't rely on books to much from now on. And authority is NEVER to be trusted."

Younger Hermione nodded fearfully. "Okay," she whispered, "I b'lieve you."

Hermione hugged herself and slipped out the door, after making sure the real eight year old her was asleep. She'd forgotten how innocent she'd been at this age.

_._

Luna cast compulsions on her parents and her younger self to move to Sweden and slipped out of the house and snuck into the forest nearby. She smiled when she met a pair of glowing yellow eyes. "Hello, Mister Heffledelinkumpdump," she said softly, "Can you take me to -" she whispered the meeting place they had agreed on, "-please?" She scratched the animal's ear tusks for good measure.

The Heffledelinkumpdump made a burbling, happy noise, and let her climb onto it's back before it raced for the meeting place.

And people said they weren't real.

.

The now physically eleven years old Hermione looked over the papers the three of them had drawn up. Charlotte, Hermione, and Luna Potter, triplets, age eight. Parents dead in a car crash, the children had gone missing right after, and lived with an Aunt. She loved simulacrums.

She looked up when she heard her sisters come in. Luna had her silky hair still, but it was black as well as messy curled like Charlotte and Hermione's, and her eyes had turned green. Hermione had black hair now, and green eyes as well. They all looked very alike. Like triplets. Which they supposedly were. They'd be starting at St. Trinians School for Girls in a month's time.

Hopefully they'd survive the experience.

Hermione frowned as she looked at Charlotte and Luna.

They would.

And the wizards wouldn't know what hit them.


	9. A Manner of Christmas

**A manner of Christmas.**

**Daphne Greengrass had never liked Christmas.**

**It was cold and false and full of nonsense. There were too many parties, too many niceties, and just too MUCH!**

**But then, she supposed that one just had to get used to it . . . **

…**...**

**Hermione Granger loved Christmas. **

**The lights, the snow, the laughter. She was actually kind of happy that there wasn't school; it was the only time of year that she saw her parents. They were so busy most of the time, but at Christmas they took time off to spent time with her and her little sister, Hippolyta.**

**She could get used to it . . . **

…**...**

**Harry Potter didn't know what to think about Christmas.**

**The Dursley's ignored him, true. But he felt sad, and always wondered what it would have been like if his parents had been alive. Would he have been happier? Sadder? What had they been like? He missed them at Christmas.**

**But he was used to it . . . **

…**...**

**Ronald Weasley felt many things about Christmas.**

**He didn't like that everyone was so stressed; especially his Mum, who wanted it to be just right for everyone. He liked that everyone was nicer. The twins took time off from pranking, Percy played with him more, and Ginny wasn't so weird. It was okay, he guessed.**

**He doubted he'd get used to it . . . **


	10. Samantha Lily Potter  Pre Hogwarts

**Just thought I'd post this before getting back to work on Addamsish Potter. I might actually continue this, but I don't know whether to make the twins, or ayt least one of them, magical, or not, and I don't know what house Sam would fit in. Ideas? Let me know what you think.**

**Mercy, 8/5/2010 10:57 AM**

On the 31st of July, after long hours of Lily Potter screaming at her husband, James, that he was never to touch her again if he wanted to live, a child was born. A girl, with big, dark green eyes and thick red hair. Lily passed out after giving birth, and James was left to hold the small child. He had been raised a Pureblood, a free thinking one, but a Pureblood nonetheless. First-born children were supposed to look like the father, in their society. He glanced around; no-one was paying attention. Concentrating, he cast a slow-acting transfiguration spell that would turn his daughter's hair completely black by the time she was a year old, at the latest. That way, it would seem like her hair was naturally darkening. He was glad he had learned the spell; it was one of the hardest ones to remove, with time being it's only enemy, and if the girl had his hair colour, than she would look like him enough. Most people knew him by his messy hair, anyway, and Potters always had black hair. The baby yawned and suckled her tiny fist, snuggling into her blanket.

Now to wait for Lily to come to so they could settle on a name. They'd thought their daughter would be a boy! They had been going to name him Harry James Potter, after Lily's grandfather, a WWII veteran, and him, James. He thought that making Lily the child's middle name would be fair.

Within another few hours, the birth certificate was all done up, and Samantha Lily Potter was given her name.

When Petunia saw a small bundle of dark-haired baby on her porch, she screamed, broke her milk bottles as she snatched up the basket, and slammed the door. What idiot left a baby on a doorstep in October? Or, rather, November, now . . . But still! Only some careless, idiotic, stupid _freak_ would do it!

Wait.

Freaks.

Lily's thrice-damned lot.

Would they ever leave her alone? She snatched a dark-coloured parchment - who used that? Really? - envelope from the folds of the blanket, with it tearing slightly as it was torn from the freakish brat's grip. She glared at both things, baby and envelope, before turning the parchment thing over and seeing if the freaks had left a return dress or something.

Nothing. Damn.

She opened it with her nice, _normal_ letter opener, unlike 'perfect' Lily, who had always torn these things open, and read the letter. Also dark parchment, and with a lurid pink ink. Who used pink ink, barring idiot teenager girl sending love notes? This freak had best not be from some teenage freak girl that had gotten herself pregnant and decided to get rid of her spawn.

'_To Mrs. Petunia Evans Dursley,_

_It is my sad duty to inform you that your sister, Lily, and her husband died on the 31__st__ of October at the hand of the Dark Lord Voldemort. But do not worry overmuch. Their child, Samantha, lived because of Lily's sacrifice, which created a blood protection so powerful that it stopped the Killing Curse. I ask of you to please take in your now orphaned niece, and to protect her from other wizards. I fear that Voldemorts shall rise again, and Samantha will be the only one able to stop him. Do not spoil her; she must know humility,, and be willing to give her own life up for the good of others. I trust that you shall do all that is possible to make it so. The protection Lily gave will spread to you and your household, and anyone who shares her blood, so long as she is in your home. Should you accept, _£_500 will be delivered to your household monthly. Please remember that she is the Saviour of her world, and must return eventually, and in good condition. I trust that she will be able enough when she returns. _

_With much joy at the Dark Lord's downfall, _

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards._'

Petunia snorted. Oh, the girl would be able bodied, but she'd be damned before she let Lily's little chit leech off of _her_ family. Tch, the nerve. She snarled at the still sleeping babe and grabbed the blanket it was wrapped in. Carrying it like a basket, Petunia stomped up the stairs and unceremoniously put the freak in Dudley's old crib.

She ran into Vernon on her way out of Dudley's Playroom, and quickly explained what had happened.

"Why can't we just throw the cheeky little bitch in the cupboard? It's not as if _her_ kind deserve any better."

The idea was appealing to Petunia, definitely, but she shook her head. "No, Vernon, we can't. For all we know, the freaks may be watching us. And who knows, if we make her normal, she may actual be normal. She'll have the magic worked out of her with hard work, chores, that sort of thing. I refuse to have anything abnormal in this house, Vernon, and a freak that lives in a cupboard is not normal."

Vernon grudgingly nodded, kissed her cheek, and left to go to work, muttering about getting breakfast on the way to Grunnings. Petunia put Dudley in the living room with all of his toys soon after, and the letter went into the attic, hopefully never to be seen again.

Life went on after that.

Samantha Potter was an odd girl in the eyes of Little Whinging, Surrey. She grew up with her mother's family, the Dursley's of Number Four, Privet Drive, and had strange green eyes and was freakishly pale. She stayed inside all day, either doing chores, or reading, or drawing, or God knew what else. It wasn't normal for a child to not play out of doors, they thought. She was a good student, but didn't actively participate in her classes, and was always popping out at you somehow. You would see her, and then you wouldn't, and then she's appear again.

It was strange, they said.

She was pleasant enough, as several of the ladies of Privet Drive knew after watching her for the afternoon or the day while her hard-working relatives rewarded their son's success. Petunia was a good woman, and listened to the children in her household, and honoured a frequent, but odd, request of her niece's.

They all thought that Samantha's was a sweet child, not to want rewards for her work, and to be willing to stay at home instead while her cousin went out with his parents.

Samantha's dearest with was for everyone in Little Whinging, Surrey, to go throw themselves of their high horses.

Age eight

Samantha sneered at the dark wood door to her room as it slammed shut, causing her shelves to rattle. She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and fall backward onto her pillow. Bloody Dursleys. She hated them, hated them with every fibre of her being. What did she do wrong?

A few minutes later, her side started aching- thank you, Aunt Petunia, frying pans to one's ribcage were definitely NOT pleasant -and she moved over to her desk, hoping that her first aid kit was still stocked; it took her weeks of odd jobs around the neighbourhood to get enough money to restock it. Thankfully, it was. She'd need to replace the antibiotics soon, though.

She looked out the window when she was finished tending to her quickly darkening bruise; nearly time for dinner. Maybe there was enough time to draw? She pulled her sketchbook out from under the loose floorboards with her pencils. Ms. Landney was a pretty nice teacher; she let students take home old supplies, didn't yell, actually liked what she was teaching, too. She flipped through the pages and came to the middle, where her current work in progress was.

Samantha had only been working on the black dog for a few minutes when she heard her uncle start storming up the stairs. Sighing, she shoved her things under the floorboards and got up, moving to the desk.

Of _course_ Vernon would come in just as she was pulling out the chair, instead of after she sat.

He glared his beady eyes at her. "What were you doing up here?" He asked gruffly.

"I was thinking, Uncle Vernon. Should I start dinner now? And if I should, do you want a roast, or devilled kidneys?" Please let his favourite foods distract him, Please let his favourite foods distract him, Please let his favourite foods distract him . . .

"Fine. Go make the damned roast, I won't have my family starve because you've had your head in the clouds, girl."

He smacked the back of her head as she walked past him.

After dinner, Samantha actually got to watch the telly a little bit. That is, no-one made any vocal disagreements to the arrangements. The sound of her relatives' 'silent' dispute about it finally got to her around a half an hour into the movie, and she excused herself to her room.

Sometimes, she really hated her family. They didn't care about her at all.

Maybe she should be used to it by now, but the eight year old girl still loved them anyway. They were nice enough to take her in. They hadn't had to, and they were alright enough towards her. Still, she wished that they would say they loved her, or just be nicer. Not slapping the back of her head at least once a day would be fine!

That night, Samantha dreamed about different events throughout her childhood.

_Age three_

"_I be'ieve in fairies, Mama!" Samantha laughed happily. Her eyes got big after Petunia stormed over to her and slapped her, yelling that she would never produce such a freakish little chit like Samantha, and that she wouldn't hear of such disgusting and vile things as fairies in her household._

_Then she grabbed Samantha up by the back of her shirt and shoved her into her dark room. Samantha scratched at the door. "Mama? Mama?"_

_Age five_

_Samantha glared at her relatives. They didn't even notice her if she wasn't in the way. She'd spent all day cleaning the house, made the living room spotless for the dinner party, and they didn't even say anything to her. Why didn't they bloody care?_

_Mr. Farlow, a funny-smelling business man that was going to buy lots and lots of drills from Uncle Vernon, stopped laughing at some joke that the children had missed and glanced at her curiously. "What's wrong, child?" He asked._

_Samantha suppressed a wince when her Aunt kicked her from across the table. "I'm sorry sir; I'm being rude. I was just thinking about some boys pulling my hair at school today, before Teacher made them stop."_

_No need to say that those boys were Dudley and his friends, and that they had only been stopped when Sam crashed into Mrs Levensky when she was running from them._

_The business man nodded. "Well, don't worry about such things, little girl. What goes around comes around."_

_Sam pulled a slight smile and tried to ignore the angry look in her uncle's eyes._

_After the man left, Vernon yelled a lot and slapped her, saying she had no right to ever look angry in his household, seeing as the Dursley's were kind enough to take a worthless brat like her in in the first place._

_Samantha learned quite quickly after that that sad looks were welcome; angry ones were punished._

_Age six_

"_Mummy! Mummy!" Dudley yelled, waving his test in the air, the paper barely visible in his meaty paw of a hand. It was a C-minus, and barely one at that. Aunt Petunia, when she saw it though, picked Dudley up and kissed him lots, saying how proud she as of her smart little boy. An idea ignited itself in Sam's head, and she decided to show her Aunt _her_ test when she got it back from her teacher._

…_._

"_Auntie Petunia! Auntie Petunia!" Sam cried out excitedly. "Lookit my test! I have an A-plus!"_

_When the dark haired girl reached the kitchen, though, her aunt tore the test from her hands and crumpled it into a ball, before throwing it off to the side. "Clean the kitchen, you cheating little brat," Petunia sneered as she slammed the door to the hall behind her._

_Samantha collapsed into her chair, pearly tears falling freely down her face. Why wasn't she good enough?_

_Age seven_

_Samantha flinched at the look on her Uncle Vernon's face._

_She had come home from the library to find her Uncle yelling into a phone about the telly being broken. The second he'd seen her come in, though, he slammed the phone down, grabbed her by her collar, and started yelling in her face before dropping her. Ow._

"_GET OUT YOU INSIGNIFIGANT CHIT!"_

_Samantha turned tail and ran._

That morning, well, technically morning, it was four o' clock, Samantha woke up to find herself huddled in a ball, her face wet from crying.

_That's it._ she thought angrily to herself as she wiped her teary-eyes, _No more. I don't care if they love me anymore; I'll be the best, and I'll show them. Like the words above the classroom door, 'The best revenge is a life lived well, and what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' I think that's actually two sayings, though . . . But I'm still following it! Or them!_

And with that, Samantha turned over and fell asleep once more, determined to be happy; whether other people liked it or not.

Age nine

'Sam' Potter smirked as she tried to keep her balance. Just move a little to the left . . . She stiffened when she moved wrong and nearly fell, ignoring the sounds of the kids below her. She gripped the tree limb harder with her legs, and did her best not to slip as she pulled each foot up onto the limb. Now . . . Jump. She was able to get one flip in before falling on her rear end on the grass. Ow. She pulled herself up and brushed off her jeans. Well, at least she wasn't hurt.

She pulled some dirt and bark from her dark, reddish-brown hair as she followed Mrs. Tellerman to the Headmistress' office. There wasn't _technically_ a rule against climbing trees and jumping on them, but grownups didn't usually care about that. She wondered vaguely if this was what it was like being a leper, like the kind they talked about in Sunday School. Sam liked Sundays; her family ignored her for the most part, and she got to go to the local church with them and sing and learn and all sorts of things. Whenever they called the kids up to the front for a sort of mini-lesson, she always got to lead the prayer before they went back to their seats.

Sam had changed a lot over the past year. She had a few friends now, two, actually. Phoebe Valentine Starling, and her twin brother, Calum Jay Starling. They kept to themselves a lot; they didn't interact very well with people other than each other, and were, quite frankly, as weird as she was. They were very nice, though, and didn't tease her or anybody else. Sam thought that the day she met them was one of the best of her life.

_Sam put her head on her knees, and wrapped her arms around her legs. This was not a good day._

"_Hello."_

_Sam looked up to see two kids her age, a boy and a girl, standing across the table from her, standing close together and watching her cautiously._

"_Why are you sitting here? Usually you're running from Dursley," the girl questioned softly. She had pale blonde hair that curled inward at her chin, and sharp, dark eyes._

_Sam shrugged. "I'm tired, I don't feel well, and Dudley is being taken with his Boy Scout troop to the zoo or something, so there's no-one to run from. For now, anyway." She turned her head so that her cheek could rest on her knees._

_The boy smiled at her. He had very light eyes, and fair hair only a little lighter than the girl's. Were they siblings? Twins? "I wondered why there aren't any bullied in today. I was hoping that they'd been eaten by Werewolves." The girl nudged the boy in the side. From his wince, she was stronger than she looked._

"_What's a werewolf?" Sam asked curiously, lifting her throbbing head a little bit._

_Both blonde's jaws dropped. "How can you not know about werewolves?" They asked together._

_Sam shrugged again. "My relatives don't like stuff they don't think is normal, including me. I read a lot, but mostly history, and I don't really like the idea of getting in heaps of trouble over something they're being stupid about."_

_The blondes sat down on either side of her and started talking about things like werewolves, zombies, vampires, fairies, ghosts, poltergeists, spirits, magic, and heaps of ther things. _

"_By the way," Sam said shyly to her (hopefully?) new friends as they got up from the table when Mrs. Alouette called them in, "I'm Samantha Potter, it's nice to meet you, but you should watch out for my cousin Dudley and his gang; they don't want me to have friends."_

"_Phoebe Valentine Sterling. Call me Valentine, or Val, and I'm really good at hiding from bullies, so they shouldn't be a problem."_

"_Calum Jay Starling, I go by both of my names, and can we call you Sam instead of Samantha? It's faster to say."_

_Sam smiled. "I'd like that. What class are you in?"_

"_Yours," the Starlings said together._

"_Mine?"_

"_Yep! Told you we're good at not being noticed," they said, still at the same time._

"_That's getting annoying really fast."_

_The twins smirked at each other. "Don't worry; we'll teach you."_

_Sam's smile got a mile wider than it already was._

"Hi Sam!" came familiar dual voices.

Sam did a double-take. "Christ! What are you two doing here? What did you do this time?"

The twins burst out laughing; they'd asked the same question at the same time she did.

"Well, you see Dear Sammie-"

"-We got a tad annoyed with certain-"

"-Arrogant berks one might call them-"

"-That like bullying people-"

"-Namely you-"

"-And we sort of-"

"-Filled their shoes with pudding-"

"-And some bad Indian food from dinner a-"

"-Week back, and apparently-"

"-They all had cuts on their-"

"-Feet. We can't imagine how that-"

"-Happened, but they got sent to the nurses office"

"-Who knew that certain spices don't mix well-"

"-With open foot wounds?"

Sam sniggered. "You two are horrible!"

The twins looked at one another and said in mock-surprise, "We _are?_ Oh, _how_ could we not have _known?_ How _horrid_ a fate!"

"Shut up."

They stuck their tongues out at her as she sat between them.\

The Headmistress' office suddenly seemed a whole lot better.

Age ten

Sam gaped at her best friends . . . Well, her only friends, but that was beside the point right now.

"You're going to do what?"

Val smiled cheekily at her. "Why, we're taking you to the charity shop, of course. You can't go on wearing elephant boy's clothes all of the time, silly."

"And just how dou expect _that_ to work, Phoebe Valentine Starling?" Sam asked angrily, her hands on her hips. She couldn't believe those two! If the Dursley's saw her with nicer clothes, namely ones that weren't Dudley's or Aunt Petunia's cast-offs, they'd decide that she stole them, and punish her, or burn them, or something similar! It would be a waste!

But Val just grinned. "Easy. The Dursley's hate anything they don't think is normal, right?" At Sam's nod and Jay's eye rolling snort, she continued. "Well? Do something unnatural, freakish, weird, whatever they call it! After all, they raised you. Seriously, just threaten them that you'll prove how much of a supposed freak you are, and when they don't believe you, prove them wrong. You'd only have to be seen giggling madly over gravestones a few times for them to get the picture. Better yet, go with the streaking thing! Then you'd only have to do it once!"

Sam closed her mouth with an audible click. Shaking her head, she turned to Jay. "You don't actually agree with her, do you?"

Jay smiled sheepishly. "Erm . . . It was sort of my idea, Sam . . . "

Sam buried her head in her knees. "Insane . . . You're both bloody insane . . . " She moaned, her voice muffled by her jeans.

Jay and Val just sniggered, and Val started playing with Sam's reddish-brown hair.

…..

Sam couldn't believe that it had actually _worked._

Of course, after she had run through the whole of Privet Drive's back gardens in her birthday suit, and more than a few people had called the Dursleys, or had come over in person, to rant and rave about Sam's unnatural-ness, and to blame the Dursley's for it.

After all, Sam was a sweet, clever child, the neighbourhood darling, and the Dursleys . . .

Well, the Dursley's were the thin topping you put on pie when there wasn't any ice-cream left.

Still . . . It had _worked?_

Sam was still puzzling over that in amazement when she went to Val and Jay's house, and when aforementioned blonde's dragged her to the Little Whinging charity shop, Another One's Treasure. Sam had only ever hid in there, and had never really properly looked about it.

There were racks upon racks of clothes, a good few large bookshelves in the far right corner, and a smallish bin of toys near the counter, along with assorted candles, knock-offs, jewellery, and other such assorted things. Val and Sam somehow managed to shove Sam into a shopping cart without the red-head noticing, and were happily wheeling her over to the children's clothes. It wasn't organised by gender, it seemed, just size. Well, she'd grown up in boy's clothes anyway.

After more hours than Sam cared to count, they finally had everything. The Dursleys had given her £50 for clothes, and she'd used it pretty well, in her opinion. Val had tried to get her to buy the same sort of clothes she wore, things like little gear necklaces, but Jay was able to convince his twin to let the redhead choose for herself.

There were loads of clothes, and really cheap, since most of it was donated, and the owner, Miss Landlow, didn't really sell it for profit. Landlow was apparently a friend of the Mrs Starling, and the twins had overheard her saying that she only owned the store to keep busy. There were all sorts of things, and Sam found several things that she liked. She got about six pairs of dark-coloured pants, two skirts, and eight tops. She got the skirts on a whim for the most part, but also as something to wear to church. One was black and ruffled, with lace and tucks and such, and flowed down past her ankles. The second one was a pretty dark green with gray trimming that looked like it belonged in a book like Alice in Wonderland, and reached just past Sam's knees.

Most of the tops were the same, long sleeved, and in dark colours that wouldn't show stains. A few of them had sleeves that belled out, and some stuck close to her arms. One had short puffed sleeves, and had been hung next to the shorter skirt, and matched it very well, with it's green colour and dark lace. Two of the tops were short sleeved, with the names of bands that Sam liked on them. She also got one long coat. It was somewhat heavy, but Sam didn't think it would be too heavy that she wouldn't be able to wear it year round. It was a dark plumy colour, and had large round brass buttons on the front, toward either side, and a high collar that reached up Sam's neck. What she liked most about it were the ruffles on the ends of the sleeves and on the collar.

And best of all, they fit her.

…...

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Dudley . . . Happy Birthday to you!" Sam, Aunt Petunia, Piers, and Uncle Vernon sang as they watched Dudley blow out the candles on his cake. Mrs. Figg was sic or something, so Sam was grudgingly taken to the Zoo with the rest for Dudley's Birthday. She wouldn't mind so much . . . If she were with anyone but her family. She was glad that she'd brought some paper and pencils with her. They weren't as good as being in her room and drawing for hours on end, but doodling as she watched was okay.

Until they got to the stupid monkeys.

Dudley was getting bored, as was Piers, and they had decided to mess with Sam to fix this. She was sitting on a bench, and drawing the chimps in the tree. She was vaguely wondering if the things knew that she was drawing them, because she hadn't thought that monkey's would stay so still when her papers were knocked from her hands. She snatched up a few of them, including the monkey portrait, and a few pencils, but most of them were ripped up by Piers and Dudley, and the other pencils snapped. Sam stared in shock. Why did they have to be so . . . So . . . HORRIBLE? What did she do them? Those stinking, vile, disgusting little cretins, they, they-

Sam's angry thoughts were cut off as Dudley grabbed for her monkey portrait and when she pulled it back, ripped the corner, and thus the littlest monkey's head, off.

Sam wasn't quite sure what had happened after that, but the next thing she knew, the enclosure holding the monkey's was open, and they were running all over, making lots of noise, and generally scaring the populace. The littlest monkey climbed onto the bench and pulled Sam's face down to it's level and gave her a big kiss on the cheek, them pounced on Dudley and stole the piece of paper with it's head on it. Then it . . . Gave it back to her?

When they got back to the house, Sam scrammed out of the car before it fully stopped in the garage, and ran like the devil himself was chasing her in hopes of getting to the Starling's house before her Uncle and her Aunt thought to blame and punish her for what had happened at the zoo.

She climbed through the window to the twin's playroom just in time to see them come in, each one holding a stack of books.


	11. The Life & Times of One Ms A B LeStrange

The Life and times of:

One Miss Amaryllis Bellatrix LeStrange

My mother, contrary to popular belief, is not insane.

So sorry to disappoint.

She cares about me. My earliest memories are of the cell I was born in, saying nursery rhymes with my mother.

I was born in Azkaban Prison, you see. I've grown up there, and have never been anywhere else. It's my home. I grew up trailing after Dementors, exploring the giant tower that was my mother's, and though I didn't understand it, my prison as well. I learned about everything from my mother. She told me of her family, the Blacks, and my father's line, too. I was taught anything my mother could remember, in her lucid moments. She told me of a great castle, called Hogwarts, and of Houses, with funny names. When mother started raging, I would slip into the next door cell, belonging to my uncle, Sirius.

He didn't agree with my mother on very many things. He thought that everyone was equal, and Mother thought that pureblood and power should rule. They fought over it a lot, and I remember once asking if they were married, because they fought like an old married couple. Of course, I hadn't any idea what it meant, mother's husband, Rudolphus, had introduced me to the term.

For some odd reason, Uncle Sirius and Mother didn't fight for quite some time after that.

When I was half my mother's height, I found out that I was not, in fact, Rudolphus' child. Mother was, indeed my mother, but I was not sired by her husband.

I was sired by the Master.

Uncle Sirius wasn't happy about that, and I hid in the Dementors quarters while they yelled at each other. The Dementors were quiet; so long as I left them alone, they did the same to me. I never was sure who the Master was, because no-one told me his name, but I did find out that I was his heir, though to the world, should I ever venture into it, I was to be the daughter of both LeStranges.

When the top of my head reached my mother's chest, I got a letter in a parchment envelope.

Miss A LeStrange

Cell Block 13

Cell 7

The corner by the Chamber Pot

Azkaban Prison.

I looked at my mother in shock. I was going to Hogwarts! I felt oddly calm about the whole ordeal. But then I froze. If they found out who I was, where I lived, _who_ I lived with . . . I'd have to leave.

I saw the newspapers the Aurors left. I knew my family's so-called 'crimes'. So frozen in my fear at leaving I was, that I never noticed the handwriting on the envelope change.

It now said:

Miss H Granger

13 Cell Blvd.

Apartment 7

The Back Bedroom

Liverpool

I blinked. Then Mother tore the letter from my hand and checked it thoroughly for . . . Whatever. It is she was checking for. She handed me my letter back.

After reading it, my first thought was, 'Now how do I get to Diagon?'


	12. Invincible

Patricia 'Herri' Hera Potter gave the twenty-some-odd assorted witches and wizards watching her with rapt attention in the Room of Requirement a cold, stoic look. "We're all going to die," she told them simply. She put up a hand to stop their rapid, worried, and in a few cases, angry, chatter. "We're all dead, our bodies just don't know it yet. However, we can put that off for a while. For the past five years I've attended Hogwarts, I've waited around for things to happen to me, and look what's happened. No-one is going to help us. Dumbledore is practically powerless with Umbrige here. The teachers can't do anything, and Voldemort is out there biding his time."

A hand raised, and one of the few Neutral Slytherins, Daphne Greengrass, asked, "What makes you think he's back? There are whispers, yes, but why should we believe you that he's back?" There wasn't doubt in her tone; instead, a challenge. Daphne wanted her to prove herself.

"I fought him. Again. Of course there are whispers, just like in his first rise. This bloody road ahead of us is filled with mystery and it's dark as it can be, and we have to fight it. I saw Voldemort, I fought him, His wand and mine connected and I saw the imprints of Bertha Jorkins, an old man, my own _parents,_ and C-Cedric. If you don't believe me, I'm quite adept at the memory charm, and you are free to leave." No-one spoke. "What are we waiting for, though, is my question. Every year I've been here, this school has been attacked, but our defence scores are the lowest they've been since Hogwarts' founding. No-one will help us, people! We can't afford to be innocent in this war. Stand up and face the enemy, for Christ's sake! It's do or die, so unless you want to be dead in a ditch, we will have to be invincible, or as close to it as we can get."

"The adults are telling us that all of our dreams are possible, that everything will be fine, but they aren't preparing us for if things go to shite. They can't justify it, even if they tried. So we're going to have to scream and yell through it all until we think we're ready. We can't run, what are we running for? The Death Eaters want to kill us, the Light side is sending us to slaughter and the Neutral are out to save their own skins. There's nowhere we can run to anymore. We can't stay innocent, we have to fight. Or would you lot rather wizard kind die out?_"_Hanna Abbot raised her hand. "But-but won't anyone help us? I mean, the adults do try, a little . . . "

This bloody road remains a mystery.  
This sudden darkness fills the air.  
What are we waiting for ?  
Won't anybody help us ?  
What are we waiting for ?  
We can't afford to be innocent  
Stand up and face the enemy.  
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.

This shattered dream you cannot justify.  
We're gonna scream until we're satisfied.  
What are we running for ? We've got the right to be angry.  
What are we running for when there's nowhere we can run to anymore ?  
We can't afford to be innocent  
Stand up and face the enemy.  
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.  
And with the power of conviction there is no sacrifice.  
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.

Herri gave her a long look. "No."_88888888888888888888_

Won't anybody help us ?  
What are we running for when there's nowhere

Herri still wasn't sure how forty-nine kids were able to get to the Ministry by Thestral, but she didn't care. She'd checked her mirror, Sirius was him. She hadn't told him though, that they were going to attack the Death Eaters anyway. They had to stand up and face the enemy."Spread out," Herri murmured to the other Students. They all got into the groups of five they had trained in this year. "Marietta, Stick with Cho, and for God's sake remember your glamour. Does everyone have someone in their group that got a copy of the layout?" Thank Christ for Pureblood connections. The others nodded. "Good. Everyone through a separate door, mark them when you're done, and we meet in the main chamber of the DoM after ten minutes, no matter what, got it? Lure out the robe-kissing bastards. Break!"Herri's lip curled as she delivered a wingardium leviosa to Bellatrix Lestrange and threw her into a wall, her skull crushing on the stone. "Bitch," she muttered. Observing the Carnage, she ripped off the sleeve covering the woman's Marked arm. Did everyone else do it? It seemed so. She checked her watch, They'd been there thirty minutes, no-one else had shown up.

Nowhere we can run to anymore ?  
We can't afford to be innocent  
Stand up and face the enemy.  
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.  
And with the power of conviction there is no sacrifice.  
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.

We can't afford to be innocent  
Stand up and face the enemy.  
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.  
We can't afford to be innocent  
Stand up and face the enemy.  
It's a do or die situation - we will be invincible.

"Let's move out, everyone, and if you see anyone not wearing a Defense Association robe, hide, the grey colour should hide you pretty well."

When the D.A. sneaked back into the castle via a new tunnel that the Nott, Zabini, Astoria Greengrass, and Meagan Jones had been keeping open to the Room of Requirement, they felt pretty damn invincible.

**So whatcha thunk? I was listening to 80s music, and I've always loved this song. Tell me if it's any good!**


	13. Polka Music Is Evil    And Dumbledore

"I'm telling you, Hermione, THAT'S why he's evil!" Harry said, throwing his hands up in the air.

Neville, who was walking by the duo, slowed down and asked, "Who's evil?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to the boy, "Harry here is under the delusion that, because Voldemort likes polka music, it's the base of all evil, or something similar."

Neville raised his eyebrows at them. "You two are going to fight about this all day, aren't you?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"No," Hermione said at the same moment.

Neville raised an eyebrow. "To let me get some sleep, since you two bicker worse than you and Ron do, Hermione, how about you take a survey of all the students in our year? The Death Eater supporters in one category, Light side in the other, and then Neutrals in the last one, and write whether or not they like polka music or anything else. Then compare it."

Hermione smiled brightly at Neville. "Perfect! Harry, you take Neutrals, Neville, Death Ester supporters, and I'll get the Neutrals! We'll meet at dinner!"

**Oh, Dear . . . **

"Lavender, Seamus, you two, me, Pavarti, Dean, and Ron all hate polka music and are firmly on the side of the Light," Hermione told the two boys. "And from Hufflepuff, none of the Light supporters like it, nor any from Ravenclaw, though Michael Corner said that if I liked it, he'd try it if he could shag me . . . " Hermione made a face. "I punched him . . . Lisa Moon, the only Light sided Slytherin, burnt all of her parents polka records when she was three . . . I can safely say she hates it."

Neville nodded. "Well . . . all the Death Eater supporters don't mind it, or they like it, once I played it for them . . . "

Harry smirked, "Five Neutrals, Zabini, Greengrass, Perks, Davis, and Hopkins, all said they didn't care one was or another, or that it was annoying. I was right!"

"You are not!"

"I am too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

Neville suppressed a groan and started leading them to the Headmasters office. Maybe Dumbledore could make them see sense . . .

As they got to the top of the stairs,. Just before Dumbledore said that they could come in, Hermione sighed in frustration. "Fine! You're right! Polka music is the root of all evil!"

"Come in, Messrs Longbottom, Potter, Miss Granger," Came the Headmaster's voice.

They opened the door, and Hermione screamed.

Dumbledore was playing _polka music._

**Random? Yes. Am I SO going to hear about this from a certain older version of myself? HELL yes. Am I posting this anyway, unbeta-d? Uh-yep.**

**If I'm dead in the morning, blame the beta! Though she'd probably just torture me over apit of boiling lava, instead . . . **

**Crap.**

**11 PM 8/31/2010 Anno Domini.**


	14. The Politically Correct Persons Co 1

The Politically Correct Persons For House Elf Rights Co. House Elf Rights Petition

Dear Sirs or Madams,

It has come to our attention at The Politically Correct Persons Co. that the popular holiday figure 'Santa Claus' has been regularly mistreating innocent House Elves for centuries! These poor, uneducated beings languish year after year in a cold and barren icy wasteland, their work unending. They have no pensions, sick leave, work benefits or pay – they cannot choose their own paths, or ever leave the frigid cold of the North Pole! Cleaning up after sloppy reindeer, an old man, and toiling away to make brand-name toys all in the name of a holiday devoted to peace, love, joy, and good will toward men! What about goodwill toward the elves that make out Christmas so merry? This hypocritical usage of unjust slavery makes an annual mockery of the Christmas season. That this 'Saint Nicholas' figure takes credit for the fine craftsmanship of the poor, oppressed House Elf masses is only infinitely worse! These beings languish in isolation while 'Father Christmas' eats cookies and has warm milk!

If YOU disagree with this horrifying, filthy miscarriage of justice, sign below as part of The Politically Correct Persons For House Elf Rights Co. - a seasonal branch of The Politically Correct Persons Co.

Sincerely Signed,

Some Very Politically Correct Persons.

____(Sighn Here)____ _ _


	15. Letter to FFNet

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be looseing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.

Psudocode_Samurai

Rocketman1728

dracohalo117

VFSNAKE

Agato the Venom Host

Jay Frost

SamCrow

Blood Brandy

Dusk666

Hisea Ori

The Dark Graven

BlackRevenant

Lord Orion Salazar Black

Sakusha Saelbu

Horocrux

socras01

Kumo no Makoto

Biskoff

Korraganitar the NightShadow

NightInk

Lazruth

ragnrock kyuubi

SpiritWriterXXX

Ace6151

FleeingReality

Harufu

Exiled crow

Slifer1988

Dee Laynter

Angeldoctor

Final Black Getsuga

ZamielRaizunto

Fenris187

blood enraged

arashiXnoXkami

Masane Amaha's King

Blueexorist

Nero Angelo Sparda

Sharkteeth

DAPC

Kyuubi16

bunji the wolf

EternalKnight219

Shi Kami The Murderous Prodigy

DeathNoteMaker

Nostalgic Remedy

Paco the Taco Maker

Slayer of Destiny

MisaPummelman

Houseofnightfan1

Serenity of the Lake

Tarnished Silver Things

If you could do what some other authors have done and post this petition as a temporary new chapter on some of your stories to help spreed the word? It would help a lot it's how I found out about this.

**FFNet's already removed one of my stories. I don't know why, and I think it's wrong. Passing it on. - M.**

**EDIT: FFNet, what the heck? I've been using this sight since 2008. Now I'm finding out that you're even deleting _accounts_? Without reading the stories flagged? Yeah, you're cracking down - good idea, you don'twant porn or something as a story cover. But - BUT - how about you READ the stories flagged? Or get some volunteers or hire a few people to go over it? People work hard on these stories. If they violate terms, fine, you're the mods. But give people a _chance_. Some warning helps. Second chances work even better.**

**I miss Livejournal.**


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